


The Lion and the Serpent

by raleigh_bird



Series: The Lion and the Serpent [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Astoria Greengrass's Blood Curse | Blood Malediction, Cute Kids, Dentist Hermione, Domestic Fluff, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy Has Daddy Issues, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco Malfoy Redemption, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, House Elves, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Malfoy Manor, Malfoy with the Good Hair, Memory Magic, Mental Health Issues, Mind Healers (Harry Potter), Mind Meld, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Past Torture, Past Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Protective Draco Malfoy, Public Scandal, Scars, Single Parent Draco Malfoy, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Spinner's End (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raleigh_bird/pseuds/raleigh_bird
Summary: It's 2017 and Draco Malfoy has been living as a single dad for the last decade, mostly keeping to the fringes of the wizarding world. But with his son Scorpius's first year fast approaching and an unexpected job offer to be Potions Master, Draco's quiet life is in for some major changes. Then in a chance encounter early in the summer before leaving for Hogwarts, Draco stumbles into none other than Hermione Granger, the fallen Gryffindor warrior that everyone believes to have died during the Battle of Hogwarts. Not only is she very much alive, but Draco finds she has absolutely no memory of ever being a witch.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: The Lion and the Serpent [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075682
Comments: 141
Kudos: 253





	1. The Parting of the Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Main story will be set in 2017 but will have some flashbacks like this one for exposition purposes which will include more about Astoria and Draco's relationship, an additional year of study at Hogwarts, and some canon divergent elements from the Battle of Hogwarts. I will update tags and characters as I go along. Eventual smut. Eventual Dramione HEA.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Lucius Malfoy’s enraged face had taken on such a deep shade of red that his son Draco was certain that he would transfigure himself into a radish at any moment. He felt a smirk threaten the corners of his mouth at that thought and had to quickly turn away towards the window. Draco was tired of this discussion. The pair had been arguing all morning and getting nowhere._

**January 2007**

“You cannot mean to do this! It's disgraceful. That child is the pureblood heir to a family line that is over a thousand years old. There are certain expectations! You would deny him his birthright, his place in society? To what end, Draco?”

Lucius Malfoy’s enraged face had taken on such a deep shade of red that his son Draco imagined that he might transfigure himself into a radish at any moment. He felt a smirk threaten the corners of his mouth at that thought and had to quickly turn away towards the window. Draco was tired of this discussion that had been argued in circles all morning and going nowhere. 

“Father, I will only say this once more. There is nothing left here for me. I do not want to raise my son in the place where his mother died. A place where his grandparents were forced to host a murderous lunatic. It was different when Astoria was here, but now she is gone and I need...I need to find my own way. Scorpius will want for nothing. He will go on to school when it is time, but I just want to give him a different perspective. I know that this is hard for you to understand.”

“You’re right, Draco. I cannot possibly understand how you could do this to your parents after everything that we have been through. After everything that we have survived! I know that we may have had our differences, but is this even what Astoria would have wanted!?”

“Don’t you dare talk to me about what she wanted! You were perfectly fine using her good name and her connections to get back into society after you were released from Azkaban. You made her think that she needed to produce an heir.”

“Oh I did, did I? Well you went right along with it. It’s not like I am the one that got her pregnant, boy. You knew this could happen and you did it anyway. You both knew. So if we are passing blame around…” Lucius sneered cruelly as Draco's eyes shot daggers at this.

“Lucius.” Both men turned as Narcissa Malfoy slowly entered the drawing room. “Enough.”

Her husband stared at her in disbelief. The older man quickly turned accusing eyes back to his son as if blaming him for his wife's pained expression. Draco looked at his mother hopefully, wincing a bit at redness around her eyes. She touched her fingers to his cheek and gave him a sad smile.

“Oh, mon petit dragon. I know you are hurting.” She glanced around the room before continuing. “There are many bad memories here for you. I do not want that for you or my grandson. There is no place where you can go where your father or I would love you any less, so if this...If this is what you need, we will not stop you. Just don't shut us out.”

Draco heard his father scoff but kept his gaze on his mother, taking her hands in his. “We won’t be gone for good. This isn’t goodbye. I just…”

“Need to find your own way.” Lucius finished, sighing with resignation.

Draco looked around the room and took stock of his ancestral home. This was where he spent his childhood, all his school breaks, and where the Dark Lord chose to plant himself during the war. Draco was standing in the very drawing room where he had lied about the Boy Who Lived and his friends and where he watched his aunt torture Hermione Granger.

He thought of the garden outside where he married Astoria Greengrass one summer morning after she had finished her 7th year. His mother had helped to weave lilac blooms into Astoria’s dark hair before tucking the same flowers into the pocket of his robe. Both his mother and her father had complained that the ceremony lacked the proper scale and grandeur expected of two ancient pureblood families, and they particularly disapproved of not waiting until Lucius was released from Azkaban. Neither Astoria or Draco cared in the least in light of the war in which so many fought and died over their parents’ misguided obsession with blood supremacy. She was his and that was the only thing that mattered to him.

When it came to Muggle tolerance, Astoria stood up to his parents with a kind of bravery that seemed more Gryffindor than Slytherin. It was during those rather tense family meals that he felt exceedingly proud to call her his wife. Lucius and Narcissa could be quite cool with her, but they both had to concede that she was an asset. There was a cunning art to the way that she played along with his parents' social maneuvering. She effortlessly took to hosting lavish parties with the wizarding elite which helped to rejuvenate the family’s name in society. Malfoy public relations had suffered after they barely managed to get on the winning side of the war at the last possible moment, but Astoria was raised to understand the game of pureblood politics without getting polluting by it. Draco would catch her eye as she teased some ministry official into another glass of wine at a party, her silvery laugh attracting all manner of useful secrets from witches and wizards in the highest circles.

When Astoria became pregnant about five years into their marriage, no one could resist her, not even his father. Draco once found the man giving his very invested opinion on nursery paint colors. Lucius Malfoy, former Death Eater and once prisoner of Azkaban, arguing about the clear superiority of pistachio green. Astoria won him over to her side in the end insisting on a peaceful pale gray "just like the color of his grandfather's eyes." Draco smirked and shook his head. The old man didn't stand a chance.

When Scorpius arrived one bracingly cold December day, congratulations poured in from all over the wizarding world thanks to a full-page birth announcement that Narcissa insisted be placed in the Daily Prophet. The family still encountered the occasional whispers and averted eyes whenever they would venture away from their Wiltshire estate, but the birth of a Malfoy heir seemed to usher in a new chapter that no one could be more pleased about than Draco himself. His life had taken an unexpected turn towards a peace that he dared to believe could last. And he did believe that right up until it all went wrong two weeks ago which is why he found himself in the drawing room arguing with his father about moving out of the Manor and taking Scorpius with him.

Presently, there was nothing else to say, so the three remaining Malfoys stood in silence until a loud wail from one year old Scorpius echoed through the halls. As Draco made a move towards the nursery, Lucius startled him by putting out a hand to stop him. “If you have really decided about this, Draco. I would like to say goodbye to my only grandchild before you haul him off to Spinner’s End.”


	2. Spinner's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“No, the bed must be bigger. Have you seen the boy’s legs, what if he wants someone with him eventually? And yes, those pictures over the mantle, silver frames only. Check the elf-wine in the cellar and save anything that isn’t poisonous…” Draco could hear his mother’s voice from the other room while he stood and imagined what his life might be like._

It was assumed that Draco would continue to live at Malfoy Manor even after he married Astoria. The estate was certainly large enough and it was common for several generations to live together in families like theirs. It was the kind of grander life that he felt he owed her. As he thought this, the notion seemed silly to Draco. Astoria would have been happy to be with him anywhere, but part of him wanted her in his family home. She helped him create new memories in the old halls that he had known all his life. She brought him back from where the war had taken him.

With her sudden absence, all the old nightmares he associated with the house returned which made his grief so much more exquisite. It was as if her presence had charmed away all the haunting shadows and without her he found the place completely unbearable again. Now when he crossed the drawing room, the memory of a young witch’s blood-curdling scream seemed to ruffle through his hair. Whenever he would eat in the dining room, he often thought that he could smell the snake Nagini or hear the sound of the creature slithering across the flagstones. Gifted as he had come to be in Occlumency, Draco could not defend himself from his own barrage of intrusive thoughts. 

His only safe haven was the nursery. The small room just adjacent to his looked nothing like the rest of Malfoy Manor. It was bright, with pale gray walls and large windows overlooking the garden and the estate’s collection of ivory peacocks. Next to the safety-warded fireplace sat two velvet chairs which Astoria had conceded to Lucius to have upholstered in pale pistachio green. A Quaffle, two Bludgers, and Golden Snitch orbited slowly in a charmed mobile of miniature Quidditch balls over his son's pale oak crib. 

The idea of leaving the manor had been weighing on him as soon as Astoria began to fade. It was not a new idea for Draco. When his godfather’s childhood home in Cokeworth passed into his hands after the war, he had had every intention of establishing a residence there after he took his N.E.W.T.s. But then he met Astoria and life took a different turn. 

He often thought about how he might have lived alone at Spinner’s End and retreated from the wizarding world entirely. Perhaps if he had fallen in love with a girl who was not a Greengrass or a Parkinson. What kind of witch would have agreed to live a quiet life with him, tucked away in a place that his aunt had once described as a muggle dunghill? _Maybe, she would not be a witch at all_ , he thought. Maybe that was the way to finally be free of his past.

So not long after the heated discussion in the drawing room, arrangements were made for Draco and his son to relocate to Spinner’s End. His aunt had not exaggerated the dreariness of the town or the general decline of the area. Snape’s mostly full-time residence at Hogwarts meant that the house, even prior to his death, had been in a poor state of disrepair and neglect. When Draco and his mother Apparated into the small sitting room, Narcissa had the unpleasant experience of arriving directly on top what looked like a dead cat, partially frozen into the carpet. 

By the time Draco had clawed a particularly sticky (though thankfully unoccupied) spider’s web off of his face, Narcissa had quite recovered from the cat and was walking through the small house with an appraising eye and rubbing her arms against the cold. As he followed her, he heard a series of pops from all over the house and realized that there were dozens of house-elves being summoned. His mother immediately began rattling off a list of commands so quickly that he could barely keep up.

Draco was beginning to feel a bit queasy as the walls of the house seemed to be swelling and contracting while house-elves ran from all directions under Narcissa’s supervision and command. Despite not being consulted, Draco was impressed with her decisiveness of her choices and her attention to detail. 

“No, the bed must be bigger. Have you seen my boy’s legs, what if he wants someone with him eventually? And yes, those pictures over the mantle, silver frames only. Check the elf-wine in the cellar and save anything that isn’t poisonous…” Draco could hear his mother’s voice from the other room while he stood and imagined what his life might be like. 

“No use building an owlery. His eagle-owl would not come deign to stay here. Perhaps a large tree in the back garden and let’s find a slightly more...rustic owl. And evergreen hedges there as well! We can’t have Scorpius falling down the stairs so this will need to be warded with childproofing charms. Make sure the fireplace in the sitting room has access to the Floo network. And Draco will need a suitable place to work from home. More light in here, no that’s too much...” 

The house was shifting so rapidly that Draco was having trouble remembering what it looked like before. He glanced at the dusting of snow on the grass and the frost on the windows. Furniture, some that he recognized from the Manor and some that he did not, was being placed throughout the house. Some elf had been tasked with organizing all of Snape’s books by subject in the now cat-free sitting room which had more than doubled in size to leave plenty of space for his own books. Another elf had cleared out the old potion master’s workspace tucked away in the attic. Throughout his new home, Astoria smiled at him from framed pictures. 

Narcissa Malfoy finally joined him in the sitting room after walking through the house one last time. “Obviously, there is still much for you to do and set up. It’s still a bit small, perhaps you can add...” she began, but Draco just pulled her into a tight embrace. 

“It’s perfect, Mother. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more about why Draco was so determined in the last chapter to move out of the Manor and major nesting at the new home with the help of his mother and an army of house elves. Chapter 3 will have us in 2017 for at least a few chapters.
> 
> After starting off with gloomy Draco-Malfoy-clearly-has-PTSD, I decided a little treat in the form of Narcissa Malfoy-meets-Joanna Gaines was needed. Spinner’s End will be home for Draco and Scorpius for quite some time and I wanted it to be a place that Draco would really like, not just the place to escape from Malfoy Manor. I think that Narcissa would not only be a woman with style and taste, but also a mother that knows what Draco likes (thanks to him growing up as a spoiled brat). 
> 
> Hope you are enjoying. I am trying to commit to writing everyday, but I don’t know how that will relate to finishing chapters daily.


	3. Birthday Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Draco ran a hand over his taut stomach as it gave a growl to signal that it was time to start the day. His birthday! Draco smiled to himself looking forward to a quiet Sunday at home, preferably with cake and without unexpected visitors._  
> 

**9.5 Years Later, June 5, 2017**

Just after dawn, Draco stretched his long limbs across the empty expanse of his bed. A riot of morning birdsong filtered through the heavy drapes over the large bedroom windows as he tried to cling to the rapidly escaping images from last night’s dream. If he only could just think about it for one more minute maybe he could remember where he had seen that face somewhere before. _Was that a twisting flame or maybe a curl of hair? A glowing blue sapphire. What did that even mean?_

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD!!” 

The words came in with a blur of boy energy that pounced into the bed to land roughly on his stomach. Draco groaned dramatically, twisting to bury his head under the pillow. _How was this child up this early on a Sunday?_ From the open bedroom door he could hear sounds from the kitchen and the scent of something savory.

“Dad? Nope, there’s no Dad here. Come back later,” he drawled from beneath the pillow, while little fingers prodded his ribcage. He finally peaked around the pillow to meet a pair of soft gray eyes the same color as his own. As always, the sight plucked at something in his chest. He inhaled deeply picking up notes of pancake batter, spearmint toothpaste, and grass. He smirked sleepily at his son who was trying to copy his father’s characteristic one-sided smile, but giggling too much to pull it off.

People often commented about the uncanny Malfoy family resemblance- the cool gray eyes, white-blond hair, and fine, aristocratic features. Draco was as certain as he knew his own name that Scorpius was his. Even at eleven, his nose and eyes were taking on a sharpness that reminded him of how he looked that summer before his first year at Hogwarts. 

Draco remembered that in less than three months he would be packing Scorpius off for the same train journey bound for an unknown future in the wizarding world that he had mostly left behind. Less than three months seemed like not enough time, and he found himself wondering how quiet their house would be when Scorpius left.

Looking into his giggling son’s face, Draco tried to will Astoria’s features to manifest. Maybe there was a slight softness in the lips or a curious tilt to his head that might bring her to his mind. Or at least the image of her that he held safe from the memories of those last weeks. He did not dwell on the final days. Long nights when he begged her for forgiveness that would not come. Slowly her skin had taken on a waxy appearance and her mind spun with delirium as she was poisoned from within. 

Despite the best efforts of healers brought from far-flung corners of the wizarding world by the Malfoy fortune, Astoria wasted away over the course of just a couple of months. He had suspected that she may have started to decline soon after Scorpius came, but he had not wanted to see it. The joys of early motherhood made her shine, blinding him to the insidious curse silently consuming her. 

Very consciously Draco push the thoughts away. Instead he pulled forth the image of a younger Astoria from back at Hogwarts, her cheeks rosy against a green and silver Slytherin scarf. A teasing smile that seemed just for him. Snowfall and the fog of their breath mingling in the air. Her ankle against his under the library table. 

“Hmmm?” Draco hummed, having sensed that Scorpius had just repeated a question. “I said,” Scorpius sighed impatiently, “Can we have breakfast now? I’m starving!”

Scorpius did not wait for a reply before he hopped off the bed and wordlessly raced down the stairs as if pulled by an invisible string. Draco ran a hand over his taut stomach as it gave a growl to signal that it was time to start the day. _His birthday!_ Draco smiled to himself looking forward to a quiet Sunday at home, preferably with cake and without unexpected visitors. 

As he padded quietly towards the kitchen, he paused at the full-length ornate mirror at the top of the stairs. Age had been mostly kind, filling out his bird-like frame of his youth with well-defined muscle. There was a slight wrinkle between his brows that remained even when he was not scowling in concentration. The Dark Mark, inactive since the death of Voldemort, had dulled to a charcoal gray over his forearm and the various scars on his face and chest had softened over time. He was a good-looking wizard for his age all things considered. 

In an experiment some years before he had accidentally created a hair tonic of stinging nettles and fenugreek seeds that had made his platinum hair lush and thick. Draco smiled smugly in the mirror as he raked a hand through the pale gold of his sleep-tousled locks. When Scorpius was eight, the boy had rubbed a generous amount of the concoction into his face which sprouted a full, waist-length beard. It had the effect of giving him the appearance of a rather thin garden gnome that thankfully was temporary. 

With a light flannel robe thrown over his emerald green pajamas, Draco thought to himself that he had never once seen his own father in such a state of undress back at the Manor. Particularly on mornings such as these, the dress code of Spinner’s End was decidedly more relaxed. And though he kept wizard's robes for the occasional game of Quidditch or visits to Diagon Alley to obtain supplies for his research, both Scorpius and Draco had mostly adopted the casual Muggle attire of their Cokeworth neighbors.

Down the stairs, Draco cleared his throat as he entered the room, stopping Scorpius mid-motion from dipping his finger into the large bowl of pancake batter that was stirring itself with a wooden spoon. “Caught, imp!” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. At the sound of his voice, their house-elf Posy turned around on the step stool placed near the stove and gave Draco a little bob of her head that made her large ears jiggle. “Happy birthday, Master Malfoy. Breakfast be up soon.” 

“Thank you. Has the mail arrived?”

“I brought it in, Dad!” said Scorpius dragging his father to the table in the adjacent dining room where he had placed the mail. There were a few packages and several letters that all seemed to be dotted with what Draco suspected might be pancake batter. Draco put the post off to the side as Posy entered with two steaming plates stacked high with Scotch pancakes, eggs, bacon, and fresh summer strawberries. 

Growing up at Malfoy Manor and even at Hogwarts, Draco had never given much thought to the work of the house-elves. Food simply appeared on the dining table, prepared out of sight. Originally serving the Malfoy family at the Manor, Posy took quite some time to get used to Draco’s presence in “her” domain. He spent time not necessarily interfering with her domestic tasks, so much observing them. She had tried to remain professional and patient while he practiced wandless magic for simple things like ironing his shirts, though house-elves are inherently superior to wizards at such skills. 

When they had moved to Spinner’s End, Draco initially insisted that he did not need a house-elf at all, but after much convincing from his parents he sullenly agreed to at least have one to help care for Scorpius. Now a decade later, Posy remained a part of their day-to-day lives. She slept in the cupboard under the stairs which was just large enough for a elf-sized bed and chair, with hooks on the wall to hang her small assortment of patchwork pinafores and hand-knit cardigan sweaters. He could not say who would miss the other more when Scorpius left in September, as the two had grown quite devoted. Seeing the two play together sometimes reminded him of the former Malfoy house-elf Dobby to whom Posy was distantly-related. Come September, Draco imagined that Posy would be spending more time with her sister at the Manor where she often went when she was not otherwise needed. 

As their empty breakfast plates were cleared away, Draco divided the mail between him and Scorpius, handing him a small package wrapped in black and silver first. Scorpius tore through the paper to reveal a small card and box of expensive-looking chocolates from Narcissa. Draco reached over to read the card: 

_My Dearest Dragon,  
Many happy returns of the day. Your father is well and has been corresponding with your friend Theo regarding some research on magic artifacts or such. I miss your voice, my son. I hope that you get out on your birthday and enjoy this fine weather. Please send my love to Scorpius. Always, Mother_

“Would you like to read the next one?” Draco asked, offering up another letter which Scorpius took. 

“It’s from Mr. Neville,” said Scorpius. 

_Happy birthday, mate. Sending you warm wishes from Hogwarts. Professor Sprout allowed me to give the Herbology O.W.L.s this year for the first time. In the middle of the practical, a Gryffindor girl dropped a whole tray of Screechsnap on a Hufflepuff boy to get his attention. Love, right? Looking forward to seeing young Scorpius this fall. I promise not to feed him to the…_

Scorpius paused and showed the letter to his father. 

“...Venomous Tentacula.” Draco said between sips of tea.

Scorpius’s eyes widened as he whispered, “Is that...a thing?” His father chuckled but didn’t answer, so the boy continued with the letter. 

_Well must be off. Let Hannah and I know when you will be coming up to Diagon Alley for his school things, and we can have a pint. It's been too long. Your friend, Neville_

“You better get used to calling him Professor Longbottom when you get to Hogwarts. I don’t want the other students thinking that you’ve been given an unfair advantage,” Draco said thoughtfully. 

“Were you good in Herbology, Dad?” Scorpius asked. 

“Well, not as good as Mr. Neville. He was pretty brilliant even when we were young.” 

“Were you very good friends at school?” 

“We were not friends for a long time," Draco said after a considering his response, "I think if we had been friends, I might have managed more than an A, the first time that I took my Herbology O.W.L. But thankfully Neville was willing to help me even though I had not always been very nice to him.” 

What his cousin Teddy Lupin had told him about the different Hogwarts houses had been weighing on Scorpius's mind a lot lately which prompted his next question, “And that’s why you became friends even though he was a Gryffindor and you were a Slytherin?” 

“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding friends at Hogwarts if you don’t worry too much about what house they are in," his father replied, "What should we open next?” 

“This one,” Scorpius said pulling the largest box towards him and untying the string around the brown paper package. A bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey was tucked inside, clearly a gift from Theodore Nott. A little card slipped out of the box that simply read: _Happy Birthday! Old Friend and Fellow Bachelor, Theo_

Draco's mind drifted to what his mother had written and hoped sincerely that Theo was staying out of trouble while working with Lucius. He then picked up the last letter, a short one from his Aunt Dromeda. 

_Many happy returns of the day, Nephew. I won’t be at King’s Cross Station this year, but Teddy will be there to send his cousin off. I remember how lonely the house was, first with Nymphadora and later with Teddy, when they left for Hogwarts. I am sending you warm thoughts for the autumn ahead. Don’t be such a stranger, Auntie D_

There was a scratching at the back door as he folded up his aunt's letter. “Bert’s back!” Scorpius said as he scampered towards the kitchen, grabbing an owl treat from the jar near the door. Narcissa had purchased the brown barn owl shortly after they moved to Spinner’s End, the large bird nesting in the hollow of the massive hawthorn tree that shaded the garden behind the house. Scorpius would say proudly that he had got to name their owl, even though "Bert" was just the result of the boy's early attempts to say _bird_. Draco heard the back door open and shut before Scorpius returned bearing another letter. Draco took it from him and broke the green wax seal from the thick parchment. 

“Who’s it from, Dad?” Scorpius inquired, staring curiously at the elaborately-flourished letters of his father's name on the envelope. 

“Looks like it's from an old professor of mine. Horace Slughorn,” Draco replied absently as he scanned the contents of the letter and then re-read it several times.

_Mister Malfoy, I hope that this letter finds you well and in good health. After much consideration, I feel that the time has come to pass the torch of Potions Master to a younger wizard. I have served not one but two distinguished tenures in this post and feel that the creature comforts afforded to an old man have been well-earned for some time._

_While grades objectively capture that you were one of my brighter students, over the years I have come to feel that I may not have cultivated as close a relationship with you as I might have otherwise due to the circumstances of the time. Sometimes the impression that I get of a witch or wizard during their teenaged years does not fully account for the futures that await them. I know all too well the consequences of my past misjudgments._

_I understand that you have taken up residence at the former home of Severus Snape in Spinner’s End and have largely kept to a solitary life. I had a similar instinct myself after the first war. I was an old man already then and could have been quite content to retire. But I can't help but point out that you are most certainly not an old man._

_While this may come as a surprise, I have followed your submissions to various scholarly journals on Potions and Alchemy these many years. Your work has been quite illuminating and it brings credit upon yourself and to this school. In particular, I greatly enjoyed your series on the exceptions to Galpalott’s Third Law which I was delighted to learn were included in the most recent edition of Borage’s Advanced Potion-Making. Truly well done, my clever boy!_

_In view of my upcoming retirement, I find myself seeking a worthy successor from a pool of so many talented former students. Though we have not crossed paths since Hogwarts, you were certainly one of the first wizards to come to mind. You will probably not be surprised that Professor Longbottom and Headmistress McGonagall particularly advocated for you when I asked for their thoughts. So here I am, writing to ask if you might be persuaded to meet to discuss your future._

_I look forward to your response at your earliest convenience._

Sincerely,  
Prof. Horace E.F. Slughorn  
Potions Master  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

“What’s it say, Dad?”

Draco folded the letter quietly before turning a bright smile to his son. “We can talk about that later. Let’s see what kind of cake Posy is making, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According canon research, in Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (which I have not read) Draco has thinning hair which he grows long and wears in a ponytail. If there is a canon divergent hill that I will die on it will be “Alternate Universe - Malfoy with the Good Hair” 
> 
> Apparently stinging nettle and fenugreek have been used in home remedies for hair growth, and I’d like to think that even good, redeemed Malfoy is still just vain enough to tinker with a magic Rogaine on the sly.


	4. The Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He wondered what Astoria would think of "Draco Malfoy: Potions Master of Hogwarts". Honestly, he was quite sure he would not even be entertaining the thought were Astoria still alive. His parents already felt that his move to Spinner’s End was hard to swallow. How much farther from the Malfoy family tree would a school teacher at Hogwarts be to them? He could almost hear his father’s voice asking him if he had completely lost his mind._

The house-elf refused to divulge any information about the birthday cake, insisting that it was meant to be a surprise after dinner. After a display of mock indignation at Posy’s resistance to his interrogation techniques, Draco just smiled at her until she was blushing. He turned back to the dining room, gathering up his birthday greetings, tucking his firewhiskey away, and leaving out the chocolates which he imagined would not last long with Scorpius around. 

“Scorpius, I need to send off a few letters this morning. How about you get cleaned up and dressed for the day and I’ll be down soon,” he called to his son over his shoulder as he ascended towards his bedroom. 

The attic was accessible by a set of narrow stairs from his bedroom. The large rectangular room where Draco did most of his work spanned the entire footprint of the house, the door somewhat in the middle of one of the longer sides. Sloped glass ceilings with louvred panels allowed for maximum sunlight and the ventilation necessary for his various projects. One full side of the room was lined with handsome dark wood cabinets with drawers and glass-fronted doors behind which potion-making supplies and ingredients were meticulously organized. A large white marble table took up the very center of the room with neat stacks of notebooks and quills. 

His heavy writing desk stood at one end of the room while two dark green wingback chairs were arranged around a large round window at the other end. He did not exactly know why his mother had insisted on placing two chairs here when he so rarely brought visitors upstairs, but he enjoyed having a comfortable place to read and take his tea when he needed a break. The round window faced the back of the house overlooking a section of small, murky river which no one visited. The size and privacy of this window made it perfect for sneaking out of the house unseen for late night broom rides.

Taking up a piece of parchment from his desk, Draco began to write: 

_Dear Professor,_

_I was most surprised to receive your letter and would be interested in meeting. There is a Muggle café that I know on Tottenham Court Road. Luchino Caffe. I leave the date and time to you._

_Warmly,_  
_Draco Malfoy_

There, he thought. Brief, but polite. Warm, but noncommittal. Still as he sealed the envelope, Draco felt somewhat anxious about what he might be setting into motion. With the reply to Slughorn out of the way, he considered who else he could talk to about the idea of returning to Hogwarts as Potions Master. He considered speaking to his aunt Andromeda. Although the relationship between the surviving Black sisters had not improved much even in peace times, Draco had made early overtures to his aunt shortly after he moved to Spinner’s End, looking to his aunt as a source of wisdom in his pursuit to live outside the bounds of the wizarding community. She advised him on necessary Concealment Charms and helped with age-appropriate conversations with Scorpius about what he was and was not allowed to say to neighborhood children. Draco and Scorpius would often visit the Tonks House, it being in another Muggle town quite similar to theirs.

It was through these visits that the boy became acquainted with his older cousin Teddy. The son of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks had just left Hogwarts a year or two prior and Draco had heard that he had perhaps found a job in Hogsmeade near the school. Teddy had an amiable nature and whenever the Hufflepuff managed to convince Draco to play a game of Quidditch, somehow the boy could be counted on to supply two full teams of his friends and even a small cheering section. 

It was at these gatherings that Draco had managed a civil though not particularly warm association with Teddy’s godfather Harry. Too much history had past between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter to be either enemies or close friends, but time had softened their reactions to each other which had previously set Draco’s teeth on edge. Both men seemed to recognize that they were not the boys that they once were, though they were also careful to keep their conversations neutral and grounded in the present.

Taking out another small sheet of parchment he quickly penned another note:

_Theo, Your gift could not have come at a better time. I have big news that requires drinking and your company. Scorpius will be in bed by 9. Meet here at 10. -DM_

Sealing the note, Draco placed it on top of his response to Slughorn, figuring that notes of thanks to his mother, aunt, and Neville could wait until later in the day. He charmed the two pieces of mail towards the round window which yawned open at their approach then sealed again as they floated down to the hawthorn tree for Bert to deliver. He came down from the attic to pull his robe and pajamas off in the bathroom before getting into the shower. He shut his eyes and let the hot water fall over his face while thinking about the morning. 

He wondered what Astoria would think of "Draco Malfoy: Potions Master of Hogwarts". Honestly, he was quite sure he would not even be entertaining the thought were Astoria still alive. His parents already felt that his move to Spinner’s End was hard to swallow. How much farther from the Malfoy family tree would a school teacher at Hogwarts be to them? He could almost hear his father’s voice asking him if he had completely lost his mind. 

Neville would be thrilled. Draco could happily imagine them playing the part of the Heads of Rival Houses by day, but having a laugh about it in the evening. Instead of having to send an owl every time he had a question about a rare plant, he could simply walk down the hall or out to the greenhouses. His mind wandered to his godfather’s portrait in the Headmistress’s office. Draco supposed that Severus would be happy for his former student and godson to take up his old post. Perhaps happy was too strong a word. Severus would be proud of him, Draco decided, and the thought was cheering.

Draco turned off the tap and stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around his slim hips, he ran a comb through his hair and inspected his jaw for stubble that was not there. He mentally walked through the halls of his former school. He seemed to float down the stairs to the Slytherin common room, then across the tables of the Great Hall, all the way up to the corridor on the seventh floor. He shut his eyes as a soft voice whispered in his mind, "I would be so proud of you." He had felt the warm breath or perhaps even the slightest graze of a lip on his ear, and when he turned…

“Dad!! I’m ready to go now!” came a call from downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much about the way he is raising Scorpius is completely different from his own childhood that I thought it would be nice if he had a bit of a mentor in the form of his aunt who married a Muggleborn and was cut off from their family as a result. 
> 
> For those anxiously awaiting hot Dramione action, I promise to explain what happened to Hermione soon! I have an exam on Thursday and will probably find a dozen grammar errors in this the next time I read through. 
> 
> Quick shout out to @Azi2Crow, @atylermac, @Sephilia815, @RedBlueCrazy, @cac340, @marsram, @HarukoHeiwajima, and @CarrieMaxwell for bookmarking this story and taking a chance on a first-time writer.


	5. Will and Won't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“So, what’s the big news? Hot date? Have the Wizengamot finally charged you with crimes of sexual deviance?” Theo quizzed gleefully. Draco took a large sip of firewhiskey and sat for a moment with the burning sensation that seemed to spread to his fingers and toes. “Better than that, friend,” he said, “Old Slughorn asked me to be Potions Master at Hogwarts.”_

A Side-Along Apparition deposited the pair neatly behind a bush just across the road from a museum in Birmingham. It was one of Draco's favorite spots that he had found recommended under Further Resources in _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_ by Wilhelm Wigworthy. He recalled bringing Astoria just after they had announced their engagement, and after several hours of Draco pointing out his favorite things, she pulled him into an embrace.

__

"The way you go on, I would swear that you, Draco Malfoy, are plotting to trade in your wand for a mid-sized sedan."

__

__

“Would that be so terrible?” Draco murmured in her ear. Astoria had pulled back to see if he was joking, but his face was unreadable.

__

Scorpius had grown up coming to this museum with Draco often, wearing himself out by climbing all over the playground and peppering his father with questions that Draco always tried his best to answer. Since most families were outside enjoying the nice weather that day, Draco and Scorpius could relax after their lunch in the mostly empty planetarium, gazing up at the projected images of the night sky.

“Where’s your Dad?” he whispered.

Scorpius caught his tongue between his lips in concentration, scanning the expanse above them, until he spotted the dragon’s tail between Ursa Minor and Ursa Major. He traced it in the air with his finger. Thus began a familiar game between father and son.

* * *

By the time they Apparated back to the sitting room, Posy had already laid out a light summer supper which they tucked into after cleaning up from their day. As their plates were cleared away, Posy brought in a small white chocolate raspberry cake with silver birthday candles. The little creature flapped her hands and tittered as the two Malfoys declared that it was her best cake ever.

Draco looked up at the clock reading half past eight and he remembered his upcoming plans with Theo. Looking at Scorpius, he felt a bit guilty that of the various people to discuss the possible life-changing job offer with, he had neglected to consider Scorpius. The pensive frown on his father’s face was not missed by the very observant young boy. “Everything okay, Dad?”

“Oh! Sure, sure. Just something on my mind,” he deflected, “Why don’t you get ready for bed and I’ll come in and say goodnight in a bit?”

Scorpius took off up the stairs and Draco stepped outside into the garden. He inhaled the heavy scent of lilacs as he paced a bit in the grass before leaning up against the tree to look at the waxing moon. There was a low hanging branch near Draco's shoulder. Bert fluttered down to it and perched quietly. “Evening, Old Bert, off to hunt for the night?” he asked, running a hand lightly over the bird’s back. The owl stared with its large black eyes and gave a quiet _k-r-r-r-ick,_ sound in response before he gently ascent over the banks of the little river.

When Draco knocked softly on Scorpius’s bedroom door the boy was in bed with a book which he quickly tucked under his pillow. Draco sat down next to him, pushing the boy's hair from his forehead affectionately.

“Did you have a good birthday, Dad?”

“Definitely. Another year better. And there was cake!”

“There’s _always_ cake on your birthday.”

“Well, I’ll have to make sure the Hogwarts house-elves know when your birthday is so they don’t forget.”

“It’ll be so weird not having my birthday with you, Dad,” Scorpius said after a bit of a pause.

“Mmhmm...but that’s growing up sometimes. Changes.” Draco considered his next words carefully, “Scorpius, you know how I said that I got a letter this morning from an old professor?” Scorpius nodded.

“Well that professor is the Potions Master at Hogwarts and he has decided to retire. I haven’t committed one way or the other, but he did ask me if I would consider taking his position.”

“You would be a teacher at Hogwarts?”

“Maybe.”

“And if you did, we would both live at Hogwarts?”

“Yes, that would generally be my understanding.”

“Okay,” Scorpius said, giving away nothing.

“Don’t think too much about it yet. I still need to meet with Slughorn and we have a long summer ahead,” said Draco, rising from the bed.

“Dad?”

“What’s up?”

“Would I have to call you Professor Malfoy?”

Draco rolled his eyes and made his way towards the door, “Goodnight, son.”

Draco took a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ into the sitting room to wait for Theo. At ten o’clock exactly, Theo landed with a soft pop into the arm chair directly across from Draco.

“One of these days I am going to see what happens if I move that chair, mate.”

“You’d never,” Theo replied with a smile.

Draco went to fetch the firewhiskey and a few glasses from the dining room, setting them down on the table between them.

“So, what’s the big news? Hot date? Have the Wizengamot finally charged you with crimes of sexual deviance?” Theo quizzed gleefully.

Draco took a large sip of firewhiskey and sat for a moment with the burning sensation that seemed to spread to his fingers and toes. “Better than that, friend,” he said, “Slughorn asked me to be Potions Master at Hogwarts.”

“Old Slughorn, eh? You know I never quite forgave him for writing you and I off on account of our fathers being Death Eaters and all. That Slug Club of his was full of insufferable swots and glory hounds.”

“Well, he did mention in his letter that he felt rather badly about that. Apparently, he has been following my work and thinks I would be a good fit for the position.”

“Professor Malfoy, hmm?”

“That’s exactly how Scorpius said it.”

“You told him already?”

“He’s my kid. If I take the job, it would mean both of us up at Hogwarts.”

“You think Posy will have wild ragers while you’re gone? Elves Gone Wild?”

“Shut up and drink, Nott.”

“I think it’s a great idea to tell you the truth.”

“Why’s that, Theo?”

“You’re hiding out here in Muggletown. Have been ever since Tory died.”

“I’m not hiding,” Draco objected.

“Look, mate, you’re a good-looking wizard, brilliant, loaded…”

“Is this a proposal, Mr. Nott?” Draco grinned.

“Yeah, it sort of is. I _propose_ you get off your ass and do something other than hang out in the house waiting around for Scorpius to come home for school breaks.”

The two men sipped their firewhiskey in silence for a moment.

“You know I think you might like it.”

“Like what?”

“The whole teaching thing. I’ve seen you with Scorpius. You love being that know-it-all that can answer his every question. You've grown up to be downright swotty.”

"I prefer the term 'learned', thank you," replied Draco smoothly.

"Uh huh. And furthermore, I worry about you all alone out here. I mean how are you ever going to meet anyone out here?"

"I don't think I'm a horse you want to bet on, friend."

“Well your odds can only go up after leaving Spinster's End.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have Election Day sad feels and exam anxiety so I wrote a chapter 7 before 5 or 6, and am now having to back track. As always, I hope that you enjoy. Please feel free to comment.


	6. Draco's Detour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Draco remained at the booth trying to decide what to do next. It was just after 3 pm. Even though the Leaky Cauldron was just around the corner, Neville wouldn’t be there on a Monday at this hour. And sending an owl up to Hogwarts would take too long. He wasn’t sure if it was the three espresso cups or the enormity of the decision, but Draco was buzzing with a manic sort of energy that called for urgent action._

An owl arrived early Monday morning with a response from Horace Slughorn inviting Draco to join him in London later that afternoon. He frowned a bit at the suddenness, but told himself the sooner the meeting was over and done the quicker he could get on with figuring out what he wanted to do. _What did he know about teaching_ , he asked himself.

Lucius and Narcissa had balked at the idea of a public Muggle education for Scorpius, and Draco did not disagree. While Scorpius had always been reliably even-tempered, the magic of wizarding children could be unpredictable. Draco did not want to chance an incident around Muggles. Most wizarding parents chose to teach their own children at home until they were of age to go to school. Draco's own early education at the Manor came from a series of expensive tutors. 

Scorpius had an inquisitive mind and required very little cajoling from Draco to keep occupied independently. Draco did not mind Scorpius coming up to the attic during the day to read a book or ask the occasional question when he needed a bit more direction. Posy kept the both of them on a schedule that marked the passing of the day with timely meals and breaks. For a creature that spent most of her life either indoors or out of sight, Posy had strong beliefs about Draco and Scorpius getting adequate time outdoors “to prevent mold.” Whenever she decided it necessary, Posy would appear in the attic brandishing a broom with reproachful comments about “Master Malfoy getting the mold.” 

Draco chose a lightweight sweater of cream and gray stripes along with slim-cut khaki pants, then sat on the bottom step to tie a pair of plain-toe oxfords. Scorpius was hanging back leaning against the wall between the entry way and the sitting room watching Draco check and recheck his hair, using his wand to neaten his part just so. Draco glanced up at the clock to see that it was half past one already. 

“Posy!” Draco called which was quickly followed by the house-elf arriving with a pop. “Looks like I’m off to London, but I should be back by dinner time. Might stop into a few shops while I’m there. You have everything in hand?” 

The elf gave him a dismissive gesture that suggested that this question was unnecessary. Scorpius seemed to be hesitating about saying something, but finally settled on wishing his dad good luck. Draco gave a bit of a sigh and then smirked at the boy as he stepped past him into the sitting room. 

“Ah, Master Malfoy?” Posy came forward, stepping just in front of Scorpius. 

“Mmhmm?” Draco hummed as he was counting a few Muggle coins to put into his pocket. When she didn’t respond, he turned towards her and saw that her large eyes were squinting slightly and one ear was held higher than the other. She smiled suddenly and snapped her fingers. Draco looked down and saw that his cream and gray sweater was now a solid emerald green that brightened his complexion and highlighted his gray eyes. Posy and Scorpius gave each other satisfied nods which made Draco roll his eyes. As he turned to Apparate to London, Draco noticed a framed picture from which a young Astoria winked at him appreciatively.

Later, he tucked himself into a booth near the front window of the Luchino Caffe giving him a good view of Tottenham Court Road in either direction. A teenaged boy, smelling of cigarettes and grease, absently placed two somewhat sticky laminated menus on the table without asking Draco if he needed anything. 

He finally spotted Slughorn approaching from a ways off. While the average British wizard could reasonably expect to live into their 140’s, Draco was surprised at how little Slughorn’s appearance had changed in the intervening decades. He was still enormously fat, the brass buttons of his light tweed waistcoat barely containing his round belly. He was tucking a pocket watch away as he entered, scanning widely before the spark of recognition lit his face. Draco stood politely and gave the older wizard a firm handshake. 

“Professor Slughorn,” Draco greeted with a nod.

“Mister Malfoy. How good of you to join me,” he returned, wordlessly charming an extension of space on his side of the table with a spell that Draco suspected the wizard probably used often.

“It’s uh, charming here,” the older wizard said eying the dim interior as Draco took his seat again. 

“I’m fond of the Florentine cannolis,” Draco said before adding, “And there’s a book shop I like up on the high street.” 

“Ah, very well then,” he said unfolding a pair of reading glasses to better study the menu. 

A young girl came to take their orders, and the two wizards fell to small talk about nothing consequential until they had fresh espresso and an assortment of rich Italian pastries before them. 

“Did you catch that Letter to the Editor in _The Practical Potioneer_ last month? Outrageous, right?” Slughorn blustered, gesturing with a half-eaten strawberry cannoli.

“Oh, no doubt!” Draco agreed enthusiastically, “The man would be ready to start the third wizarding war before he gave up proprietary rights to what the Ministry should have never allowed him to patent in the first place!”

“You keep current on the research, young man! And that is essential. One cannot be a Potions Master if one does not change with the times. Pureblood, half-blood...these are irrelevant. Young blood! Passion! That’s what's important!”

Draco grew quiet at this first mention of the intended purpose of their meeting.

“What’s on your mind, Malfoy?”

Draco looked out the window and tapped his fingertips lightly on the formica table as if playing an unseen piano. “I have been...away. Since my wife...” he trailed off. 

“Ah, yes. I remember her fondly. Sweet girl. A shame, truly. We were all so terribly sorry for your loss.”

Draco squirmed uncomfortably, quickly redirecting, “You mentioned that Headmistress McGonagall is aware of your offer. And Neville, er, Professor Longbottom?”

“Oh, yes. Both seemed quite enthusiastic in recommending you. Your achievements both during school and after have done you credit. You know, I pride myself on being able to appreciate great potential when I see it, and I can admit when I have overlooked it as well,” Slughorn explained. He spoke the next with a conspiratorial whisper, “And it is obviously not a job requirement per se, but I can't help but mention that you would allow us to continue with the tradition of the Hogwarts Potions Master also being Head of Slytherin House.” 

Draco smiled at this, “I see your point there.”

“So what do you say, Mister Malfoy? Feeling brave?”

 _Brave?_ Draco wouldn’t necessarily have picked that word. In his experience, it paid to know all the exits and to consider all the contingencies. Bravery was reckless. Brave people end up hurt or worse. But he pushed that thought away and focused on both Slughorn’s words as well as Theo’s.

“Yes.” 

“Splendid! Oh, Mister Malfoy, you had me worried for a moment there! You truly did!” Slughorn said, pulling his hand into a vigorous handshake as Draco felt a blush creeping up his neck to tint the tips of his ears pink. 

“I must return to tell Minerva at once. You’ll hear from her soon about any details, you know, timelines and such. Golly, this is good news. You’re going to do great things, I’m sure.” With that Slughorn slid with some effort out of the booth and wished Draco well as he took off down the road. 

Draco remained at the booth trying to decide what to do next. It was just after 3 pm. Even though the Leaky Cauldron was just around the corner, Neville wouldn’t be there on a Monday at this hour. And sending an owl up to Hogwarts would take too long. He wasn’t sure if it was the three espresso cups or the enormity of the decision, but Draco was buzzing with a manic sort of energy that called for urgent action. 

He decided to walk up to the Leaky Cauldron. He could get Neville's wife Hannah to get word to him by Floo. Or he could even take the Floo all the way to Hogwarts! Or, wait, he thought, he couldn't go to Hogwarts randomly with no word to Scorpius at home with only Posy. Draco left money on the table as he left. _Floo message to Neville, that’s what I’ll do_ , he thought. He looked up and down the street trying to remember which way to the Leaky Cauldron, then took off with long swift strides and a racing mind.

He was moving so fast that he nearly missed the bookshop where he had meant to stop originally. Figuring he had time for a quick detour since the Leaky Cauldron was just a few blocks away, Draco spun on his heel. Unfortunately, the person behind him hadn’t noticed his sudden change of direction and the resulting collision left him flat on his back, his head making a terrible sound as it connected with the pavement. 

Draco groaned from the weight of something on his chest, and then his legs seemed to be caught as he tried to right himself. He squeezed his eyes tightly while reaching a hand to gingerly feel what he feared might be bleeding from the back of his head. He groaned when even his light touch made his head pulse like it was about to explode. 

“Oy! Are you okay?!” 

Draco was having trouble focusing on anything other than his head, but he dragged his gaze in the direction of the voice. And that’s when he knew something was really, really wrong. 

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Hermione?”

“No, no, no, that’s my name, I just told you. What’s your name?”

Draco was sinking. Everything was getting quiet and fuzzy. 

“Hermione…”

The dark was closing in around him, but he heard one last thing:

“Ughh...Bollocks!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun... What the heck? Why doesn't Hermione know Draco?
> 
> Draco is as surprised to see Hermione as I am surprised that 1000+ hits later, you guys are sticking with this slow, slow burn. 
> 
> More to come, including why Malfoy is pretty sure that his concussion has him seeing a ghosts.


	7. Hermione’s Helping Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hermione squealed, blushing furiously at her awkward position on top of a stranger. She began scrambling to untangle her legs from the tall blond that she had just been staring at. His body had shielded her in the fall, effectively preventing any part of her from hitting the ground. She quickly shifted her weight off of him to try and figure out what had made that_ thunk _sound. She winced as she saw him reaching up towards his head. That is not good, she thought, as she saw his long fingers come away bloody._

Hermione had just wanted to stop into the cafe next to the bookshop to pick up a quick snack before heading back to work. She was hoping that they would have the lavender scones she liked with lemon peel and clotted cream. As she continued towards her destination, she could not help but notice a very tall blond in a soft-looking jumper walking just ahead of her, his long limbs swinging gracefully. She sighed wistfully as her gaze drifted from his wide shoulders down towards his slim hips as she lifted her wrist to check her watch.

_Oh it’s just after three, there’s time before…_

Hermione did not manage to finish the thought before she suddenly felt her whole body lurch forward. She shut her eyes and braced for impact, instinctively turning her face from the fast-approaching pavement. She heard a sickening sound of two hard things connecting. When the movement finally stopped, she frantically surveyed her body, confused by her lack of injury. That's when she first heard the groan coming from beneath her.

Hermione squealed, blushing furiously at her awkward position on top of a stranger. She began scrambling to untangle her legs from the tall blond that she had just been staring at. His body had shielded her in the fall, effectively preventing any part of her from hitting the ground. She quickly shifted her weight off of him to try and figure out what had made that _thunk_ sound. She winced as she saw him reaching up towards his head. That is not good, she thought, as she saw his long fingers come away bloody.

“Hey! Oy! Are you okay?” she said trying to get his attention. 

There was no one else around but she could see through the bookshop window that an older woman in an apron was watching them nervously with a phone to her ear, most likely calling for help. When she saw Hermione looking up, she came around the counter and out the door to say that she had rung emergency services. 

_Oh thank goodness_ , Hermione sighed, _one problem solved_. 

She forced herself to speak calmly and clearly, “I’m Hermione. An ambulance is on the way, okay? Can you tell me your name?”

Hermione held her breath as pale gray eyes found hers. He looked so confused and lost. There was a helplessness in his expression that made Hermione ache. He had fine features, an aquiline nose, delicate lips, and flawless, pale skin. 

“Her-Hermione?” he sputtered softly.

She shook her head. “No, no, no, that’s my name, I just told you. What’s _your_ name?”

His eyes fluttered closed.

She touched his face, and heard him say her name again in a distant way. 

“Ughh...Bollocks!” she said with exasperation. 

She could hear the siren of an ambulance coming nearer. She scanned the rest of his body for other injuries, patting down his pockets looking for a phone or a wallet. Nothing.

The older woman from the bookshop came out and put a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder. 

“I saw the whole thing. He certainly came down hard as a tree! Do you know him, dearie?”

“No, I was just walking in and...” her voice faltered, “Oh God, I hope he’s okay. I couldn’t find a phone or a wallet.” _Or a wedding ring_ , Hermione thought distractedly. 

“You reckon he was maybe robbed?” the old woman asked, her eyes darting up and down the road nervously.

“No, pretty sure he was fine until he ran into me like steam train,” Hermione said, feeling guiltier by the minute for being completely unharmed from their collision. 

The woman patted her shoulder again, “Help's on the way, lovey. Who knows, it might even be a cute story someday.”

Hermione could feel the threat of tears pricking her eyes. She shook her head and forced a weak smile before saying, “Yeah, I’m sure. Just like magic, right?” 

The older woman made her way back inside as the ambulance pulled up. Hermione backed up to let the emergency personnel work. 

“Miss? You with the gentleman?”

“Oh, well, yes, technically. But, I don’t kno…”

The man cut her off impatiently, “I mean are you coming or going?”

Hermione swallowed and climbed in, telling them what she could which was really nothing other than how she found him and that she couldn’t find a wallet or phone.

He was breathing on his own and his pulse was strong. But he slipped in and out of consciousness the entire way, each time looking for her before drifting away again. She reached for his hand as they approached the hospital and he murmured something that she couldn't hear. 

“What did he say?” she asked the woman sitting on his other side. 

“He said ‘Potter doesn’t know,’ That mean something to you?”

“No idea,” Hermione said, squeezing his large hand again.

When they arrived, activity swirled around Hermione as they prepared to admit him. She remembered that she hadn’t called the office in all the confusion and her phone must be full of missed calls. She needed to leave, but the man's searching eyes filled her with dread. Guilt gnawed at her that the stranger might be very injured while she had not even a scratch. 

“You can wait for him out here,” said the man who had been short with her earlier. 

“No, I can’t stay, I have…” but she stopped because he was no longer listening. Hermione's head popped up with an idea. She unzipped her wallet and then pushed a business card into the hand of the woman guiding the gurney through the sliding doors.

“Can you please make sure he gets that?” 

The small card read:

#### GRANGER FAMILY PRACTICE

##### Dr. Hermione J. Granger

BDS, PG Cert Rest Dent  
General Dentist  
934 Tottenham Court Rd  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally delivered on some Hermione content, and I am _weak_ for a helplessly vulnerable Draco.
> 
> I may have stayed up all night and wrote 4 chapters because insomnia meds are useless in the face of this election. I'll be combing out the grammar mistakes over the weekend I'm sure.


	8. A Sluggish Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“This wasn’t a magical injury. There was an accident...maybe I fell? I don’t know. I just woke up in a Muggle hospital. Then Posy found me.” Draco was sure that there was critical information missing, but the memory just wasn’t there no matter how hard he tried to bring it forward._

Draco woke up very thankful to have taken Muggle Studies. If he hadn't recognized himself to be in a hospital room, he knew he would have likely panicked when he woke. He knew that the various beeping machines and tube coming from the back of his hand were involved in Muggle healing in some way. His couldn’t see his clothes or his wand. He tried _Accio, wand_ both out loud and non-verbally, but his mind felt foggy and trying to focus brought a fresh wave of pain to his head and back. 

He swallowed and forced himself to assess his options. He couldn’t get to his wand. If he couldn’t manage a summoning charm that he had been doing since First Year, then safe Apparition was definitely out the question. He breathed in and tried to center his thoughts again. Think, Malfoy. The clock on the wall said that it was 9:30 and he could see the night sky through the window. A sudden wave of nausea hit him as he remember Scorpius and Posy waiting at home. 

As if on cue, Posy arrived with a soft pop next to the bed. Draco almost wept at the sight of the small elf as she eyed the room, anxiously wringing her hands. 

“Master Malfoy not home for dinner. Posy make chicken.”

Draco smiled weakly. “Posy, find my wand. And I need,” he felt sick and shut his eyes. Posy spotted his wand and clothes in a bag under the bed and when she had them in hand Draco had opened his eyes again. “Good,” he whispered, “I need Dromeda.” 

Andromeda Tonks awoke to a crashing sound and when she came downstairs her wand was drawn. She was unprepared for an unconscious Draco slumped on the couch wearing some sort of backwards robe, his head bandaged and his feet bare. His house-elf Posy was bringing his legs up and levitating blankets towards the sofa. 

Draco’s aunt sprung to action, fetching dittany and assessing his injuries. Whoever had bandaged his head had stopped the bleeding so she only needed to use the _Vulnera Sanentur_ incantation twice to clear the damage and knit the wound closed. “Rennervate!” she said after she had finished with the dittany. Draco blinked at his aunt, looking around the room. “How?” he began, but Posy came out from where she had been watching Andromeda help him. 

“Posy worry for Master Malfoy,” she said softly, as he sat up.

“I know. Thank you. Both of you,” he said, looking from one to the other.

“Merlin’s beard, Draco, what on earth happened to you?” his aunt asked at last.

“I don’t remember," Draco began, "I was in London. I was…”

Draco suddenly remembered, “Aunt Dromeda, I'm going to be Potions Master at Hogwarts!”

“Well that’s thrilling, but how does that explain why you are in my living room in the middle of the night?”

“I was… I met with Horace Slughorn. We had coffee and then,” Draco paused and closed his eyes in frustration. 

Draco head snapped towards Posy, “Where’s Scorpius, Posy?” 

Posy looked down and shuffled her feet. “When Master Malfoy not come home, Posy not want to leave Boy. Not safe maybe.” 

Draco started to feel sick again despite his aunt’s healing efforts. 

“So, Posy bring Boy to sister at Manor. Boy safe with Mistress Narcissa.” 

Draco groaned, but admittedly he was both relieved and grateful for the house-elf’s judgment. 

“What happened? Were you attacked, Draco?” his aunt asked seriously.

“This wasn’t a magical injury. There was an accident...maybe I fell? I don’t know. I just woke up in a Muggle hospital. Then Posy found me.” Draco was sure that there was critical information missing, but the memory just wasn’t there no matter how hard he tried to bring it forward. 

“I think maybe you should have Posy take you to the Manor. I’m sure Scorpius will be sick with worry if you aren’t there when he wakes up,” Andromeda said calmly.

Draco nodded, desperately wanting to get some sleep. He kissed his aunt’s cheek and thanked her, promising a proper visit soon. Posy took the bag of his clothes in one hand and Draco’s hand in the other, and when they reappeared they were in the hallway between Draco’s old bedroom and the nursery. Draco quietly poked his head into the smaller room to see Scorpius sleeping, a bed having replaced the crib. He touched Posy’s shoulder as he took the bag from her, whispering his thanks. 

He dumped out the contents of the bag onto the bed to retrieve his wand so he could get cleaned up and find something to sleep in. Posy had already brought his pajamas from home and laid them over a chair for him. He shook his head, filled with gratitude for his little house-elf, making a note to thank her profusely in the morning. He took up his clothes from the bed and went to toss them on the chair but as he picked up his pants some of the Muggle coins fell from the pocket along with a small card.

Draco sighed and stooped down to retrieve the fallen items, but it was the card that caught his eye. Nothing about the item made sense. Not its presence in his pocket or the words that were printed on it. Part of him wanted to destroy it and forget he ever saw it. Another part tried to convince him that this was just part of his injury. But he read the card again and again until he could avoid sleep no longer. He burrowed under the blankets and tucked the card close to his chest before falling into an uneasy sleep thinking about what he had read: 

#### GRANGER FAMILY PRACTICE

##### Dr. Hermione J. Granger

BDS, PG Cert Rest Dent  
General Dentist  
934 Tottenham Court Rd  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> The action hero of this chapter is clearly Posy. Draco comes along for the ride. Let me know what you like in the comments!


	9. The Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Draco shut his eyes tight, but could not escape Hermione's desperate attempts to reach into his mind. She pushed her pain onto him so that he felt every letter as if it was his own arm. She dug her fingers into his guilt so he felt every letter as if it was his own dagger. And the dream always ends in the place where he can't tell where her scream ends and his begins..._
> 
> TW: For nightmare stuffs involving canon torture content and apparent non-canon major character death. This is violent. You can skip to the end notes if that's not your thing.

**Dream One**

Draco sat in the purple-walled drawing room of Malfoy Manor. The smell of the Snatchers reached him even before his aunt called him to come closer. They reeked of blood, unwashed bodies, and something decidedly feral. The largest of them was wiping his mouth with the back of a greasy, unwashed hand before roughly re-adjusting his grip on one of the prisoners. Draco would have recognized the girl in his clutches anywhere, her eyes and her hair, unmistakable. Draco kept his face a cold mask, dragging his eyes away from her as Bellatrix and Lucius hissed encouragement into his ear. They pressed him towards the one that could be Potter. The one whose face was a swollen mass of flesh with green eyes.

Draco tried. He had really tried to keep them safe (her safe) by feigning uncertainty. He truly wanted no part in the fever pitch that was escalating in the room. He hated his father's needy desperation and the sadistic gleam in his aunt’s eyes as she wildly paced the floor. And Legilimency was hardly necessary for Draco to see the disgusting images of what Fenrir Greyback hungered for. Draco wanted to run him through with every violent curse he had ever learned when the werewolf suggested that he should get "a bite or two" as a reward for capturing her.

Draco stood rooted in place near a large window, his white knuckles on the windowsill unnoticed by anyone in the room. He heard Weasley’s helpless cries grow fainter as the boy was dragged with Potter down into the cellar. He watched as both his parents took leave of the drawing room, too cowardly to witness Bellatrix Lestrange torture a child has young as their own.

The scene before Draco assaulted his every sense. His aunt was hovering, rolling her hips over the struggling girl. Hermione was pinned to the floor, bound by a combination of magic and terror. Draco swallowed thickly to keep from crying out. He wasn't sure how much more he could take before his knees would buckle. As each of her screams tore through him viscerally, he wildly thought that he might offer himself instead. He wanted it to stop, but he was too afraid. _Once a Slytherin, always..._ , he thought, _I have to save my own skin. I have to survive. This is part of the game. Self-preservation._

Bellatrix had cast the Cruciatus Curse twice before Hermione wet herself, the acrid scent of piss mixing with the odor of blood, sweat, and the terrifying dark musk of his aunt's growing arousal. Every time the girl's head fell to the side in exhaustion, a sharp slap would again demand her undivided attention. Sobs wracked her body and Draco could see that she was struggling to breathe.

“Where did you get that sword, you filthy little Mudblood?!” Bellatrix snarled.

As Bellatrix sent another curse, Hermione's body twisted in ways that should have broken bones. Her doe eyes rolled frantically like a creature caught in burning barn. And when her deep brown gaze finally found Draco, he felt utterly destroyed. Everything that has aunt had ever taught him about shielding his mind through Occlumency fell away and he found Hermione completely inside his head. He could feel her fingers clawing at his brain, trying to latch on to his thoughts of helping her. He instinctively knew that if she succeeded in ensnaring his mind that he would take her place or kill his aunt. Anything to make her pain stop. He saw the slightest of movements from her mouth, a slight but clear plea. _Please, help..._

His aunt's voice severed the connection. “Oh, so you think he's going to help you? It's almost precious, don't you think, Draco? The little mudblood wants a hero,” Bellatrix mocked, roughly forcing Hermione's head up so she could menacingly drag a silver dagger against the girl's exposed throat.

A pathetic sob tore through Hermione as she looked away from Draco. Her body going limp for the moment, each of her breaths clearly labored and painful. His aunt was giddy with sadistic pleasure as she pinned Hermione's thighs down with her knees until he was sure her hips would dislocate. 

“My sweet nephew, I think the problem is that this filthy scum is forgetting her place,” Bellatrix drawled as she wrenched Hermione's left arm from the sleeve of her coat and bared the pale skin of her forearm, “Perhaps she needs a helpful reminder, hmmm? So she doesn't forget that she is nothing but a worthless Mudblood whore.”

Draco shut his eyes tight, but could not escape Hermione's desperate attempts to reach into his mind, even as she retched from the pain. She pushed that pain onto him so that he felt every letter as if it was his own arm. She dug her fingers into his guilt so he felt every letter as if it was his own dagger. And the dream always ends in the place where he can't tell where her scream ends and his begins...

**Dream Two**

Perhaps it was sleeping in his bed at the Manor that made his mind so thirsty for the old nightmares again. Draco twisted and writhed as he fell into yet another familiar scene. The walls of the drawing room melted away to reveal the pale stonework of Hogwarts Castle. This was the 7th floor corridor outside of the Room of Hidden Things.

 _Crabbe. Stupid, dead Crabbe using magic that he couldn’t control_ , Draco thought bitterly. Potter had flown them directly into the wall of the corridor as they narrowly escaped the Room of Requirement chased by Fiendfyre. The collision knocked Draco off the broom and directly into a slumped over Goyle. The other boy was unconscious, but clearly breathing, his blackened face tear-stained and sweaty. Weasley was on the floor nearby, panting with exhaustion and coughing up smoke. Draco understood later that he could not have noticed these details about Weasley or Goyle at the time. These observations simply made up the filler that insulated his mind from the painful moments that followed.

Hermione was the first to get to her feet, wand up and alert. Harry had rolled off the broom and in one smooth motion tossed something shiny to her which she caught with the grace of a Seeker seizing a Snitch. Hermione was turned towards him in such a way that Draco could see her face while she focused on the metal object vibrating with a kind of strained wailing. He noticed her delicate fingers blackened with soot as she squinted to read an inscription: _Wit beyond measure..._

Draco was perhaps the only one positioned to see what was about to happen with perfect clarity. The only one looking directly at the open doors. Despite the rawness of his throat, Draco managed a strangled bark, “Granger!” The sharpness in his voice had startled her, and their eyes met as she took a step backwards away from him. To Draco, it seemed that the approaching serpent of Fiendfyre paused for the briefest of moments at the threshold of the door. He might even go so far as to say that the creature had looked directly at him. His heart hammered against his ribcage, wishing desperately to wrap himself around her. 

Each frame of the next moment clicked through his mind one after another. Hermione was looking at him, her expression curious more than anything. She had stepped back because he tried to warn her. He was trying to warn her. Her brown eyes were glassy, almost liquid, tears cutting two fissures through the soot on her cheeks. The blinding light behind her illuminated the halo of her hair and the soft curves of her silhouette. His hand came up instinctively to shield his eyes, but he could not tear his gaze away. _Magic did this_ , he thought, _I wish.._.

The serpent’s jaw opened wide and snapped forward with whip-like precision. And then there was no girl. And then there was no door, no words, and no fire. Draco immediately turned to retch on the stone floor while the sounds of the battle from other parts of the castle echoed from several directions. He finally forced himself to look at Potter and Weasley. And they looked small and scared in his memory, their faces frozen in horror. No one breathed until the moment was broken by the approaching sounds of dueling farther up the corridor.

The dueling sounds were getting closer, and Goyle was starting to rouse. Draco clamored unsteadily to his feet, trying to assist the much-heavier boy. Harry’s eyes looked wild, and Ron had put his fists to the side of his head, muttering to himself. Draco managed to sling Goyle’s arm over his shoulder. Wounded and without wands, they were of little threat to anyone which is probably why they were left standing as Potter and Weasley took off down the corridor.

* * *

Draco awoke to the distinct pop of Apparition. He clawed at the sheets, confused to find himself in his old bedroom at the Manor. He nearly jumped out of his skin as Posy’s large eyes peered at him with a worried expression.

“Master Malfoy has his dreams again. Posy brought water.”

Draco was panting and exhausted, and he noticed that the bedclothes were drenched with sweat. He gave Posy a grateful nod and took the glass of water from the house-elf. After a large gulp he wheezed, “Did I...Did I wake Scorpius?” Posy shook her head, “Silencing charm.”

“Thank you, Posy. I think I’ll be alright now.”

Posy tilted her head ever so slightly with a dubious expression before she popped out of sight. Draco laid in bed, fully awake, pulling the card from where it stuck to his chest and desperately trying to make sense of Hermione Granger.

  
_Alive._  
_Safe._  
_Not a dream._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torture porn of Draco's nightmares as he relives Hermione's suffering and death over and over, dwelling on his inaction and guilt.
> 
> I wrote the second "dream" with an open copy of Deathly Hallows for continuity purposes. The only change to the conclusion is that Hermione is taken out of the story after they destroy the Diadem. It doesn't change the outcome of the war, but obviously her death at that point will have later consequences for Harry, Ron, Draco, etc.
> 
> I am going to be tender and loving with Draco for a few chapters after being so mean in the last couple. Hurt/Comfort is my jam.
> 
> I am caught up on responding to comments, but keep 'em coming!


	10. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Narcissa still felt no closer to understanding the dark thoughts that troubled her son, but as she ran her fingers through his hair and soothed circles into his back she could see some of the tension visibly leaving his body. “My brave little dragon, you’re safe now,” she whispered softly as he closed his eyes and let his wand fall to the floor._

**June 1998**

A few days after what would be known as the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco and his parents sat in the drawing room when several agents of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement arrived to take them into custody for questioning. Everything had seemed muffled and dimmed in Draco’s mind, and he hardly reacted when he was told that he and his mother were being released. Though not present during the short Wizengamot hearing, apparently Potter had written a statement attesting to Narcissa’s crucial deception during the battle and Draco’s refusal to identify him at the Manor. The Wizengamot had decided that in light of these actions that the two would not be tried with the other Death Eater war criminals. 

Lucius was initially to be returned to Azkaban to continue his life sentence for his participation in the events in the Department of Mysteries, but Narcissa had managed to plea for clemency resulting in a reduced sentence of five years with good behavior and a substantial donation towards the restoration of Hogwarts Castle. Potter had surrendered Draco's wand to be returned to him as well. Draco did not speak to his father on the day they were finally allowed to leave, but watched numbly as his parents said tearful goodbyes to each other.

Once home, Narcissa tried several times to talk to Draco about what had happened the night of the battle, but an impenetrable wall seemed to surround him. She followed the news in the _Daily Prophet_ which published article after article about the rebuilding of the Ministry, the restoration of Hogwarts, and profiles of the more notable casualties. Draco had come down for breakfast one morning to see Hermione Granger staring at him with defiance under the headline _“Fallen Warrior and Brightest Witch of Her Age”_ which immediately sent him back to his room for several days.

“Draco, are you up?” his mother asked softly outside his room. 

“I am. You can come in,” he responded.

Narcissa approached her son cautiously. Draco sat on the green velvet window bench, his knees pulled up to his chest, his wand held limply in one hand. Sitting in the early summer sunlight, his gray eyes were ringed with dark circles and his pale blond hair fell messily over his brow. His mother sat down across from him, pulling an envelope from the pocket of her silver robe. “This came for you, my dragon.”

Draco took it from her and opened the letter, and she sat down next to him as he read it. 

_To Mister Draco Malfoy,_

_This letter is to inform you that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be permitting Seventh Year students to return in the coming fall to complete an additional year of study in preparation for N.E.W.T.s that they did not have the opportunity to take this year. Participation is strictly voluntary._

_We would like to assure you that the health and wellbeing of our students has always been of the utmost importance. Joining the staff this year from St. Mungo’s will be Eleanor Cryor whom will be working with Madam Pomfrey in the school infirmary as a Mind Healer with extensive experience in the treatment of mental maladies. We hope that this will be a beneficial resource for students as they return to the academic environment._

_Please indicate your decision regarding Eighth Year on the enclosed form and return no later than July 1st, 1998. Academic advising appointments are available over the summer while we are making necessary repairs to the castle._

_Sincerely,_  
_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall_

Draco folded the letter and looked out the window. Narcissa reached out a hand to brush his fingers and she winced at the way her son flinched. He gave her a weak smile and took her hand. 

“It just says that Seventh Years are being allowed to go back to Hogwarts for an Eighth Year to prepare to take their N.E.W.T.s. Special circumstances and all because of what happened,” he said flatly.

“What would you like to do?” Narcissa asked.

Draco’s gaze fell to their joined hands, before he spoke, “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s worth the trouble of facing everyone.”

His mother squeezed his hand. “Whatever you decide. I’m here.”

Draco seemed to hesitate for a moment and then surprised them both by moving forward to lay his head in her lap. And for the first time in many years, Draco gave himself permission to be comforted. Narcissa still felt no closer to understanding the dark thoughts that troubled her son, but as she ran her fingers through his hair and soothed circles into his back she could see some of the tension visibly leaving his body. “My brave little dragon, you’re safe now,” she whispered softly as he closed his eyes and let his wand clatter to the floor. 

Draco owled his response form the following day with an additional note asking if he could meet with the Headmistress at her earliest convenience which her reply informed him would be on the 5th of June at 3 o’clock. _My birthday_ , he thought, hoping that that might be auspicious. He arrived by Floo a few minutes early, standing somewhat awkwardly until McGonagall gestured for him to take a seat. “Good afternoon, Mister Malfoy. Welcome.” 

“Hello, Headmistress,” Draco said, “Thank you for seeing me.” 

“And how can I help you today? I saw that you indicated that you would be returning, and I understand that the Wizengamot did not charge you after...” she stopped as his face tightened, “How can I help, Mister Malfoy?”

“Headmistress, I have done things that I am not particular proud of. There are some people should be here that are not because of me. I know that I have a lot to make up for. But I want to come back here to finish what I started. I want to prove that I can be...more.” 

Draco had practiced this speech, but was still unprepared for how raw it would feel to say these words to a witch that had known him since he was a smug eleven year old being sorted into Slytherin House. He held his breath as her eyes rose to regard one of the portraits hanging behind him. 

“Mister Malfoy, the war has changed us all and made us grow in ways that we never expected. I understand now that there were circumstances that impacted your 6th and 7th years perhaps more significantly than some of your classmates. I can appreciate your determination.” 

Draco murmured a somewhat awkward thank you. 

“Seeing as the 5th years were otherwise occupied in these last months, we felt it only fair to push back their O.W.L’s to the fall while we make necessary repairs to the school. As such if there are any O.W.L.s that you wish to retake in order to achieve the higher marks necessary for the N.E.W.T.-level courses which you intend to take, I am prepared to allow that.” 

Draco considered this carefully before responding. He had unsurprisingly received Poor in the Care of Magical Creatures, but decided that it was unlikely to be a subject that he saw himself pursuing further. His Divination, Herbology, Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes were merely Acceptable. He had earned O’s in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well as E’s in both Charms and Transfiguration. After all that had happened in the last couple of years it was hard to remember that he used to be competitive. 

“I think that I would like to pursue that option for at least Herbology and possibly Arithmancy. I feel I could have done better.”

“Very well,” the older witch seemed to hesitate at this, “And having earned an E on your Transfiguration exam, I expect that you will be joining my class?”

Draco nodded. “There was one more thing that I was wondering, Headmistress.” Draco paused before finally asking, “Is there any way that I might take the O.W.L. for Muggle Studies? I know I did not take the elective, but if I were to pass the O.W.L. would there be any reason that I would not be able to advance to take the N.E.W.T. in a year’s time?”

Headmistress McGonnagal studied the boy for a moment, her thin eyebrows arching at his request. “That is...highly irregular, Mister Malfoy. As you are aware, Professor Burbage is sadly no longer with us,” she said, noticing Draco tense at the mention of the former Muggle Studies teacher, “A suitable replacement has not been found yet, but in the interim we have reached out to Wilhelm Wigworthy, author of _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_ to oversee the curriculum as needed. I suppose that if you felt prepared to take the O.W.L. in three months and passed there would be no reason that we would stop you from pursuing the subject further. That is, if you felt it necessary for your future plans.” 

“I am not sure of my future plans yet, to be quite honest, Headmistress,” Draco returned, “But I know that my view of the world has been...limited by my upbringing. And I feel obliged to change that if I can.” 

“That is a very...mature perspective, Mister Malfoy.”

He reddened slightly at her words and stood up rather suddenly saying, “I believe that was everything that I wanted to discuss. Thank you again for meeting with me, Headmistress.”

Draco was moving towards the fireplace and reaching for the Floo Powder, when the older witch interrupted him with “Oh, and one more thing, Mister Malfoy.” And for the very first time in the many years that they had been acquainted, Minerva McGonagall smiled at Draco Malfoy before wishing him a very happy birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, I'm being gentle with my Draco for a few chapters by going back to Eighth Year. Probably a Neville-heavy chapter to come. And at least one Astoria-focused chapter (Drastoria smut? No smut? Let me know in the comments). 
> 
> Chapter 10 chronologically occurs right after the events in the nightmares from Chapter 9. For anyone saying what the heck about Lucius in Azkaban, it's a small detail that I may explore, but he is released shortly after Draco marries Astoria but nearly 5 years before Scorpius is born.
> 
> Has anyone noticed that The Lion and the Serpent and all my chapter titles are chapters from the books? I went down the list and pulled out ones that I thought I could use as prompts and it seems to be working out so far.


	11. The First Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Draco gave a polite cough that startled the young man from his task. “Um, hello. Do you mind if I sit here, Longbottom?” Neville looked at Draco as if gillyweed had suddenly sprouted from his head, but he said nothing as the slim blond floated his trunk into the overhead storage and sat down across from him. Okay, now what, Draco thought to himself._

About a week later, a package arrived for Draco during breakfast. He pulled out a small stack of parchment with a letter on the top.

_Mister Malfoy,_

_Per our conversation last week, please see the enclosed study materials for the Muggle Studies O.W.L. which will include three essays from a choice of five topics to be scored by Wilhelm Wigworthy. While you should have all the appropriate notes for preparing for Arthimancy and Herbology, when I mentioned that a student was studying to improve their Herbology O.W.L., a student of my house was kind enough to offer a collection of revision guides that you might find useful._

_Sincerely,_  
_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall_  
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Draco glanced over the list of Muggle Studies topics his head tilting with curiosity. He had grown up with most of the adults in his life ranting constantly about the nearly sub-human inferiority of Muggles. He was taught that their ways were antiquated and that their blood was dirty. Draco confessed that he knew very little about Muggle life at all. Looking at the topics, he thought that he would definitely need to create a schedule for himself to tackle the unfamiliar content over the next three months if he had any hope of doing well. 

He thought that he had done a decent enough job of preparing for his Herbology O.W.L. during Fifth Year, but nothing that he had reviewed came even close to Neville Longbottom’s notes. There were detailed illustrations with identification tips, flowcharts for choosing appropriate fertilizer ratios, and information tables that Draco was sure Professor Sprout had never covered. Draco was instantly fascinated by his life-like sketches. One that he liked particularly was of a young mandrake, its scrunched-up face so expressive that it looked ready to scream. 

He was still on the fence about Arthimancy, but also felt that he had been close enough to an E that he really just needed to find his old notes and make sure that he devoted time to reviewing. If all went well on the three O.W.L.s that would mean a full schedule of N.E.W.T.-level course work in Potions, Charms, Herbology, Arthimancy, Transfiguration, Muggle Studies (if an actual class was being offered), and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Seven. It would be tough, but he felt up to the task. 

The next three months seemed to fly by, and Narcissa’s heart swelled at the changes in her son. He woke at dawn every morning and threw himself fully into studying in a way that she had never seen. During school breaks in the past, Draco often wiled away his time sleeping in and visiting with Theo or Blaise, but this summer she watched him spend his days alternating between the library and the rose garden just outside. She often found him with a lap desk beneath a willow tree surrounded by stacks of notes and books, perhaps bringing a snack which would invite some of the peacocks near. Then when he would join her in the dining room for meals, he excitedly shared his thoughts about whatever he was working on between ravenous forkfuls of food. His once gaunt frame started to fill out and his complexion brightened. Draco began sharing his sketches of plants and she was surprised at the skill that he seemed to pick up quickly. She found his sudden interest in Muggle Studies highly suspect, but Narcissa was determined to tolerate whatever made Draco’s eyes light up in a way that she had not seen in many years. Too soon, the summer was over and the day arrived for her to see Draco off at King’s Cross Station. 

“Be good, my dragon,” she whispered as she hugged him one last time.

“I’m trying,” he murmured before he shifted his trunk over his shoulder and left her side.

Draco was not sure how many of his classmates would be coming back to Hogwarts for Eighth Year. Quite a few had taken the option to go directly into Ministry-sponsored vocational training which would be accepted in lieu of N.E.W.T.s. Particularly in Slytherin House, he was sure that some students from families that had been supporters of the Dark Lord would opt to not return out of either shame or defiance.

The Malfoy family’s last-minute change of allegiance made many of their former associates quite distant in the months that followed the war. Draco never again heard from his old friend Gregory Goyle after that night and Draco had read that the young man had been sentenced to time in Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy's return to prison and speculation about Draco's own degree of involvement in Voldemort's atrocities made Draco guilty by default to many. This fact was evident in the rather chilly reception from both parents and students on Platform 9¾. 

As Draco walked down the aisle scanning the compartments, he saw eyes diverting as he passed. Draco felt particularly vulnerable knowing that his closest friends, Theo, Pansy, and Blaise, had decided not to return. Feeling particularly discouraged by the sidelong glances and whispers, Draco paused at a compartment towards the back with a single occupant. Neville Longbottom was too thoroughly engrossed with rifling through a box of seed packets to notice Draco standing near the door. The thought occurred to Draco that while he would not have Theo, Pansy, or Blaise, it was also true that Neville would not have Harry, Ron, or Hermione. Perhaps a little Gryffindor bravery was necessary.

Draco gave a polite cough that startled the young man from his task. “Um, hello. Do you mind if I sit here, Longbottom?” Neville looked at Draco as if gillyweed had suddenly sprouted from his head, but he said nothing as the slim blond floated his trunk into the overhead storage and sat down across from him. _Okay, now what_ , Draco thought to himself. 

Conversation options seemed limited. There was the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry business. Oh, and the fact that his dead aunt had tortured his parents certainly put a damper on discussion. _This was a terrible idea_ , he thought, and the longer Neville stared at him the more Draco could feel his ears turning pink. Taking a steadying breath, he slowly reached into his leather school bag. Draco swallowed as he noticed Neville’s hand move ever so slightly closer towards his wand. Draco pulled out some notes, and Neville's face immediately registered surprise as he recognized his own writing.

“I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about lunar germination cycles. I found something mentioned here, but then I couldn't find a reference…” 

“Hey, those are my notes!” Neville interrupted, “Why do you… Oh! When McGonagall said someone wanted to brush up on their Herbology...never would have thought it was you.”

Draco swallowed again to tamp down his nervous energy before he managed a completely dead-pan delivery of “Yeah, well, you could say that I am trying to turn over a new leaf.” 

Neville failed to suppress a snort of surprise, “Herbology jokes? Really, Malfoy?”

Deciding to try his luck, Draco put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, “Hey I get it, I’ve been a real snake to you in the past. Try not to take my head off. Though I heard that you were into that kind of thing.”

Neville’s eyes widened, completely dumbfounded. Surely this had to be some Polyjuice Potion prank. He had never known the Slytherin to have ever pass up an opportunity for cruelty. This just wasn't Draco Malfoy.

After an awkward silence, Draco finally said, “Look, just tell me if you want me to piss off. I just want to keep my head down and study this year. And your notes were really helpful, that’s all I wanted to say.”

Neville turned away towards his box again and Draco suddenly feared that this was about to be very long and very silent journey to Scotland when Neville reached over and handed him four of the seed packets. 

“These do really well with lunar germination but only if…” Neville began.

* * *

Some hours later, Ginny Weasley came towards the compartment looking to say hello to Neville. The red-headed witch was shocked to find Draco Malfoy with her fellow DA member, with school notes, chocolate frog wrappers, and other half eaten snacks between them. 

“Everything okay, Neville?” she asked tensely, never taking her eyes of Draco. 

“Oh sure, sure,” Neville replied in a friendly tone, “Draco was just telling me about an ancestor of his that successfully propagated a...”

“ _Draco_ , is it now?” she asked with an accusatory tone.

“Ginny,” Neville started, but she had already turned and marched off.

“Sorry about that,” Draco said, “It might be a little soon.”

“Weren’t you worried about that when you decided to come back?” Neville asked.

“What? That I would be a total pariah from both sides and that plenty of people would rather that I was dead?” Draco drawled. He interlaced his fingers behind his head while looking at the passing countryside, and mustering all the affectation of a bored prince replied, “Nope. Never crossed my mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recovery has to start somewhere. I like the image of Draco laying in the grass looking at clouds, hanging with the peacocks, and drawing plants. I wanted there to be a bit of a Neville-Draco connection before the train ride so that he would have some kind of plausible "in" with him. I also want to believe that Neville would give Draco a chance.


	12. The Unexpected Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _After lunch the following day, Draco followed McGonagall back to her office. He knew the essay questions could be anything related to topics that he had prepared for over the summer, and had spent the morning reviewing his notes. As he sat down at a desk that had been set up in her office, he took a deep breath before opening the exam booklet._

The realness of the situation weighed on Draco from the moment Ginny Weasley stormed off from the train compartment. Although he had ignored the stares at the platform and had even found unlikely sanctuary with Neville during the journey, Draco felt a sudden wave of anxiety as the train pulled to a stop at Hogsmeade. As he gathered up his things slowly, he was surprised when Neville put an encouraging hand on his shoulder. 

The First Years looked impossibly young in Draco’s eyes as he saw Hagrid ushering them off to the boats. The rest of the students made their way to the carriages. Draco eyed the thestrals uncomfortably, their bat-like wings flexing in the moonlight. He noticed sadly as several of the older students, no doubt present at the attack on the school, realized that they could see the grim creatures for the first time. Draco followed Neville into an open carriage, but was quiet for the short journey to the gates.

Draco made his way to the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. He found a spot tucked away towards the back near fellow Eighth Years Tracey Davis and Millicent Bulstrode. He managed to clap along with the rest of his table each time the tattered brown hat cried out “Slytherin!” during the Sorting Ceremony. He couldn’t help but take some comfort in the familiar ruckus and noise of the Great Hall, so inherently different from the silent atmosphere of the Malfoy dining room. Headmistress McGonagall’s welcoming remarks were reassuring after the chaos of the past year. She also made a special announcement that the sixteen Eighth Years would be housed in a separate house-neutral dormitory.

At this statement, Draco looked down the length of his house's table and saw Daphne Greengrass sitting with her younger sister Astoria, a Sixth Year whom he had never spoken to. Only four Eighth Year Slytherins, and the three others were girls, so he would be rooming with strangers from other houses. He glanced hopefully in Neville’s direction, not missing the scowl that Seamus Finnigan was directing at him. 

When dinner finally ended, the Headmistress herself came to gather up the Eighth Years while the prefects of other houses ushered the other students to their respective dormitories. The Eighth Year common room was comfortably furnished, a mismatch of furniture with a long central table for studying that sat between two mirrored fireplaces. McGonagall gestured to the stairs leading to the girls’ rooms and those leading to the boys’. She wished them all a goodnight as they separated off to find their beds.

“Mister Malfoy, a word,” she said just as he had begun to move. 

“Yes, Headmistress?” he asked quietly, looking around to make sure the no one was listening.

“So that you may begin classes promptly on Monday, your three O.W.L.s are to be administered as soon as possible. I recommend that we get your Muggle Studies exam out of the way first since it will need to be sent off by special owl for marking. I have spoken to Professors Sprout and Vector, and they suggested Saturday for the Herbology written exam, leaving Sunday for the Herbology practical. As you recall there is only a written exam for Arthimancy which Professor Vector is available to proctor on Sunday after your Herbology practical. I trust you are feeling prepared?” Draco nodded.

“Very well. Then l will see you in my office tomorrow after lunch,” she said, “Off to bed with you now.”

“...this is shite. Should have been us three in a room. Not that bloody snake...” Draco heard the thick Irish accent of Seamus Finnigan as he approached the first room at the top of the stairs. As Draco stepped into the room, Seamus stormed off, bumping his shoulder deliberately as he passed. Draco shot Neville a small relieved smile as he spotted his trunk at the foot of the third bed and looked over cautiously towards Dean Thomas. 

“Thomas,” Draco ventured.

“Malfoy,” Dean returned. 

“Who are in the other rooms?” Draco asked to no one in particular as he began rummaging through his trunk.

“Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot in one room, all Ravenclaws,” Neville said, flopping down heavily on his bed.

“Seamus is with Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie MacMillan in the other,” Dean replied.

“Nice we have a whole weekend before classes start, eh?,” Neville said hanging up his robes, “Can’t remember the last time that happened.”

Draco thought about mentioning the O.W.L.s to Neville, but didn’t feel comfortable with the way that Dean Thomas was watching him as if he might hex him. This look only intensified when Draco removed his robes and Dean caught sight of the Dark Mark just under his rolled up sleeve. 

Neville turned to Dean and quickly said, “Hey, mate, fancy a game of chess down in the common room before bed since we have nothing to do tomorrow? I’ve got leftover candy from the train.”

“Uh, sure,” Dean responded while still keeping his eye on Draco until he walked out in the direction of the stairs.

“Thanks, Neville,” Draco said quietly.

“No problem,” Neville responded, “You good here?”

“Yeah, I’m taking those three O.W.L.s this weekend starting tomorrow.”

“Oh! Well I’ll keep Dean out of your hair. Try and get some sleep.” 

Draco was grateful that Headmistress McGonagall allowed him to take his three O.W.L.s privately to spare him from taking them along side the rising Sixth Years, a courtesy that he imagined she extended to any other Eighth Year sitting for remedial exams. He imagined that Susan Bones would have taken the option as well, wincing at the memory of his vicious taunts after the Death Eaters had killed every member of her family during Fifth Year. He had given her a wide berth as they had made their way from the Great Hall after the feast, noting her friend Hannah Abbott wrapping a protective arm around her as they went up the stairs.

After lunch the following day, Draco followed McGonagall back to her office. He knew the essay questions could be anything related to topics that he had prepared for over the summer, and had spent the morning reviewing his notes. As he sat down at the desk that had been set up in her office, he took a deep breath before opening the exam booklet. 

_Directions: Answer three of the following five questions in 12 - 15 inches of parchment each._

> 1\. Identify the general components common to Muggle and Wizarding currency. Contrast how these components vary and how this variability affects access to funds, inherited wealth, and international trade.
> 
> 2\. Demonstrate appropriate practical application of knowledge regarding sports and leisure, food and drink, and transportation that would be considerations in a Muggle pub that are different in a similar setting in the Wizarding world.
> 
> 3\. Compare and contrast the First Wizarding War with the Muggle First World War, noting similarities and differences in contributing factors, weapons technology, and civilian involvement.
> 
> 4\. Choose one commonly used potion for which a Muggle equivalent exists and one for which there is not a Muggle equivalent and then describe the implications in both situations.
> 
> 5\. Describe Muggle representations of Transfiguration in art or literature that differ from the Wizarding world using three examples. 

Draco brought the tip of the special Anti-Cheating Quill to his bottom lip as he gauged his options. He heard a small cough above him and looked up to see his godfather staring him down from a ornate silver portrait frame on the wall. 

“Tick tock, Draco,” Snape drawled. 

“Severus, if you please!” the Headmistress scolded.

Draco allowed himself a small smirk as he began writing, the quill flying confidently across the page. After his allotted three hours he finally gathered up his parchment and stood to return them the headmistress, confirming the time for tomorrow’s Herbology exam. Draco felt lighter even without knowing the results. One subject down, two to go. He had always thought that Muggle Studies would be a joke class that any Muggle-born could pass with their eyes closed. However after his summer, he felt that even if some topics would be inherently more familiar if you had spent time in the Muggle world, you still had to be able to relate it back to the magic context which he found interesting. There were times where doing things the Muggle way seemed slower, more tedious, and sometimes even more dangerous, but he had to admit that there were a lot of the same concerns in both worlds. 

As he left the Headmistress’s office, he was so wrapped up in thinking about the test that he barely noticed where he was going. Not until he found himself looking at the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy did he realize that he had managed to wander to the empty 7th floor corridor outside of the Room of Requirement. Draco felt his face go pale and his chest tighten. His green and silver school tie was pulling unbearably against his throat. He stumbled over his feet and a sharp pain told him that he had grazed his head against the stone wall as he slid to the ground. Draco clawed at his tie and took in small choking gasps, looking up and down the hall with wild, unseeing eyes. 

“Draco! Draco!” a voice was calling to him, shaking him by the shoulders. He dragged his eyes towards the voice and found Astoria Greengrass kneeling by his side, her concerned face drawn close to his. 

“Are you okay?” she asked once his breathing seemed to slow. She produced a small handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it gently to his temple. “Should I get Madam Pomfrey?”

“No, no, I think I’m alright,” Draco said, feeling a bit embarrassed by the closeness of the Sixth Year girl. He could smell the light floral fragrance of her dark brown hair. Her cheeks were flushed and her face was close enough for him to see flecks of green in her hazel eyes. He averted his eyes to study the delicate bones of her hands. 

“I was walking to the Eighth Year dormitory to meet my sister before dinner, but I seem to have got turned around,” she said looking up and down the still empty hall.

“You’re not the only one,” Draco muttered as he got to his feet and dusted himself off.

“Want to walk together?” she asked, seeming not to hear his comment.

“Yeah, sure, the dormitory is up this way,” he said nodding his head to the left.

“Ah, my hero! Thank goodness I found you,” she beamed at him, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze that for a moment made the corridor behind him and its bad memories disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I am so, so sorry about the one-week radio silence on this story. I have been doing so much reading and not nearly enough writing. As promised, I gave a few (3) chapters of kind-to-Draco flashback material, and I am very ready to get back to 2017 so we can find out what the heck is up with Muggle Hermione. I hope to get another chapter up soon, but I am also still working on "I Know Where You Live Now" as well. I have made little edits here and there to the 11 chapters proceeding this one, but mostly grammar, not plot. 
> 
> Your comments and kudos bring me such joy, and I do my best to reply to everyone.


	13. Hermione's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It wasn’t until she was curled up on the couch in an old sweatshirt, wine glass in hand, that she sighed and told her friends what happened with the man in front of the bookshop._

Hermione hailed a taxi from the hospital to return to Tottenham Court Road. As they drifted through traffic, she could not stop thinking about how the stranger whispered her name and how his silver-gray eyes seemed to know her. The thought of his lost expression and the overwhelming nature of the incident made her eyes water. As she went to wipe her cheek with her sleeve, she noticed a bit of blood on her cuff, the sight making her grateful that the taxi was pulling to a stop. She paid the driver and quickly rushed up the stairs to her office. 

When her parents had retired and moved to Australia, Hermione brought on her two best friends, Veronica Woolsey and Harriet Porter. The three had been inseparable since secondary school, through university, and eventually through dental training. Hermione had barely stepped into the empty waiting room when a frantic Veronica came rushing around the front desk. 

“Blimey Hermione, you are a sight! Where have you been? I had the front desk blowing up your bloody cell!” her friend exclaimed, taking Hermione by the shoulders, “Hermione?”

“Where’s Harriet?” Hermione finally asked, her voice soft.

“She took your afternoon surgery, but she should be wrapping up. Christ, is that blood? What happened?”

“I’m okay. It’s...not mine,” Hermione replied absently. Hermione forced herself to the front desk, steeling herself up to tell their receptionist to push back any appointments that she had the next day. She was vaguely aware of Veronica looking at her with great concern while simultaneously indicating which patients she would be picking up and which ones would go to Harriet. 

“Um, you sure you just want a day? You know Harriet and I can handle things around here.”

“Yeah I should be fine. I just need some quiet tomorrow,” Hermione reassured, “Do you think you could walk home with me?”

“Of course, love,” Veronica replied warmly, “Harriet is just finishing now, so we can all head out, okay?” Hermione nodded and gave her friend a weak smile.

Hermione’s parents had helped her purchase a modest flat within walking distance of the clinic when she began working with them. They didn’t think it appropriate for a grown professional to both live and work with her parents. “How will you ever meet a nice man living with us?” her mother had asked, considering this to be the most compelling of reasons. 

Her home was a comfortable space on the third floor of an old brick building with a large street-facing window. It had two good-sized rooms, one for a bedroom and the other a book-lined office. The living room wasn’t very large, but was adequate for entertaining her small group of friends which consisted primarily of her, Veronica, and Harriet and whomever they were dating at the time. 

Harriet and Veronica exchanged concerned looks as the trio walked the four blocks to Hermione’s flat. Harriet tried to make light conversation about work, but trailed off at Hermione's unusual lack of engagement. It wasn’t until she was curled up on the couch in an old sweatshirt, wine glass in hand, that she sighed and told her friends what happened with the man in front of the bookshop.

“Wait, I’m over here worried for the better part of the day that you had been killed or kidnapped by human traffickers, and you’re telling me that you fell into the arms of a gorgeous gray-eyed stranger who saved you from smashing that pretty smile of yours into concrete? And you're upset about this?” Harriet asked incredulously.

“It’s not at all important that he was attractive! He could have been really hurt and I don’t even know if he is okay,” Hermione said with exasperation. 

“She really needs to sort out her priorities,” Veronica commented to Harriet.

Hermione groaned into a throw pillow.

When her two friends finally left, Hermione sagged with relief as she bolted the door behind them. She took a shower and climbed into bed, relishing the thought of sleeping in tomorrow even though she felt significantly better already. It had been a wild and overwhelming day. 

Hermione heard a yowl from her bedroom floor right before her cat, an enormous creature that she called Endo, hopped on to the bed, indulging in a full-body stretch before curling into a compact ball of fluff near her feet. Switching off the bedside lamp, Hermione gave one last sigh before she drifted off into a familiar dream.

 _She was flying over flames. She could hear them roaring all around her, the smoke stinging her eyes and her lungs. All she could focus on was the smallest patch of light up ahead, the promise of cool, clean air growing stronger with each second. When she came to a sudden halt, disappointed that she couldn’t fly far away into the night sky the way she wanted. She needed to find something and as if by magic it appeared in her hands. It was singing to her. Or maybe screaming. If only she could make out the words, then she would know what to do with it._

_There was a boy with beautiful blond hair and he was crying out for her. She ached to go to him because he looked so frightened, but her feet moved backwards instead. The glow of the flames reflected in the young man’s wide eyes, the light casting strange shadows over his face. She didn't understand what was happening. She wanted him to be safe, and she could tell that he wanted her to be safe. Safe as a secret. A ribbon of pale blue light appeared to encircle her, snaking its way around her body, constricting tighter and tighter. She was shrinking, concentrating until she was nothing but a deep blue sapphire for just a moment before she faded into the light._

When Hermione woke late in the morning the next day her first thought was how in all the years that she had that same bizarre fire dream, she had never once noticed how the boy’s eyes were a stormy shade of gray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive the cheesy bit with her friends' names, but I couldn't help myself. I felt guilty about the writing hiatus so I decided on a bonus chapter for today. 
> 
> Comments and kudos keep me going, friends!


	14. Seen and Unforeseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He went to his study to retrieve an empty glass vial before he gently brought his wand to tease the silver tendril of the memory from his temple to be collected. When he went to bed that night, he placed the vial next to the card near his bed, watching its glowing contents swirl and settle until he fell asleep._

In the morning after his strange misadventure, Draco did his best to downplay his sudden appearance at Malfoy Manor, going so far as to suggest that he had been feeling sentimental because of his birthday and thought that he would surprise his parents with a visit. If Lucius and Narcissa had not been so completely spellbound by Scorpius’s playful breakfast banter, they may have been inclined to ask a few more probing questions about Draco’s late night arrival. 

“Can I, Dad?” Scorpius’s voice cut through Draco’s thoughts.

“Pardon?” 

“Can I spend the rest of the week here? Grandfather promised that I can practice flying. Pleeeeaaasseeee?” 

Lucius gave an innocent cough over his tea and avoided Draco’s eyes, and his mother was practically beaming with excitement. _Fuck_. 

“Well,” Draco said finally, “I suppose Posy could use some time off if you think you can behave yourself for a week here. Bedtime still at nine, and there will be absolutely no chasing the peacocks, understood?”

“Yes, Dad,” Scorpius drawled with an eyeroll.

“You won’t stay as well? It’s been so long since we’ve seen you, my darling,” his mother asked her face showing concern.

Draco looked into his empty teacup for a moment before choosing his next words, “I have had some news. Horace Slughorn is retiring and he has asked me to take his post as Potions Master at Hogwarts. I only agreed just yesterday.” 

It pained Draco how much his breath held in his chest as he looked from his father to his mother. All these years and their approval still meant so much to Draco. After all it had cost him, it still mattered. Neither parent responded for what seemed like an eternity. Finally Lucius set down his tea and gave Draco a somewhat cautious smile before surprising everyone by exclaiming, “Draco, that’s wonderful news!”

“I’m going to have to call him Professor Malfoy!” Scorpius blurted out cheerfully, causing everyone to laugh and saving Draco from the threat of an emotional reaction. 

“That being the case, there are some things that I would like to attend to this week,” Draco said, “So, if it would be agreeable, I think it would be a good time for Scorpius to visit.”

As his parents gave into their excitement over spending the week with their grandson, Draco became acutely aware of the business card in his pocket that seemed to burn brightly against his leg. One week with Scorpius and Posy out of the house. _One week to find some answers_ , he thought. 

* * *

Posy insisted on returning with Draco to Spinner’s End to put the house in order for the week, but all the while arguing that she didn’t need the time off. Draco was firm, only allowing the house-elf to leave him with groceries and nothing more. 

“I am perfectly fine, Posy,” Draco reassured, “Please, I need you to be there at the Manor with Scorpius to make sure he behaves.”

Posy fixed him with narrowed eyes that told of her suspicions, but eventually sighed, “You burn dinner. You call Posy. Hear?”

“I hear,” he replied as she Disapparated with a soft pop.

Draco wrote a short note to Andromeda thanking her again for her help last night and telling her about Scorpius staying at the Manor. He went to the attic for some dittany and a few healing potions to replace his aunt’s supplies. Packaging everything up with a small box of peppermint candies, he sent Bert off to the Tonks House. 

Part of Draco wanted to immediately return to London, but he managed to restrain the impulse to go unprepared. There had to be an explanation for what he saw. _Identical strangers? Time travel?_ He muttered to himself as he floated books off the shelves in the sitting room. Anything that mentioned Fiendfyre protection spells or Concealment charms. He knew of Anti-Muggle wards, as well as Anti-Magic wards, but neither seemed to fit the situation. By dinner time, the attic, sitting room, and dining room were spread with a layer of research that had turned up nothing particularly useful to tell him how Hermione Granger had been living and working in London undetected. And perhaps, more importantly, why he alone had seen her after all this time.

Tomorrow. He would go tomorrow. Maybe he could figure something out if he could just watch her. Bits and pieces of the previous day had been slowly finding their way back to his consciousness to include his failed attempt to talk to Neville and Hannah about the Hogwarts position. That could wait for now.

By the time he climbed into bed, Draco was mentally exhausted. He weakly fought the nightmares that he was sure would come. He had spent all day thinking of her, and he knew that his sleeping mind would be greedy for more. More than one Mind-Healer had recommended Dreamless Sleeping Draughts, but he always refused, certain that he needed to remember what happened. 

* * *

Draco woke up early with a restless energy. He made himself a light breakfast and jotted some notes while he had his tea. She clearly left this card with him. Perhaps she wanted him to be able to find her, he thought. It told him where she worked and what she did. Maybe the best course of action was to just observe first. Maybe if he could see where she lived, he could get a sense of what kind of magic was involved. 

During his final year at Hogwarts, one month of his Muggle Studies class had been devoted to Medicine and Healing Arts. He had vague recollections about Muggle dentists and what they did, ghastly work involving drills and needles and other torture devices. Might be something to brush up on, he thought grimly. What he did remember is that they kept shops called clinics that were open during the day. If that were true, once he found where she lived, it would not be difficult to investigate while she was working. _Oh, if only Potter could see his amateur Auror attempts_ , Draco sighed to himself. Potter was a whole other problem to deal with later once he knew more.

When he finally saw her, it was towards the late afternoon after he had read a Muggle newspaper backwards and forwards at least five times at a small coffee shop across the street from 934 Tottenham Court Rd. Through the glass front door he could see a set of stairs, and he had watched people come in and out regularly for the better part of two hours when Hermione appeared. Even though he had been waiting and anticipating it, his chest still tightened when he saw her. 

She was walking with a red-headed woman about the same age, they seemed to be dressed in the same black uniform. Scrubs, he recalled, from Muggle Studies. They were laughing about something, even from across the street Draco could see her shoulders shake with it, her head thrown back in delight. _Gods, was she always that beautiful_ , he found himself thinking. She threw her arms around the other woman in a quick embrace before the two separated to walk in opposite directions. 

Draco had already paid so he was able to move quickly. He stayed far behind, on the opposite side of the street as she walked along. The light was beginning to fade and he could tell that she was aware of her surroundings as she walked. He followed her for about four blocks before she turned up a path leading to a brick building of what he assumed were flats. She disappeared through the front doors. 

He stood for a moment just staring at the building, feeling oddly let down as if he had expected something bigger to happen. There were a number of large, street-facing windows and he noticed a movement in one on the third floor. It was hard to make out from across the street initially, but when a light came on he could clearly see her. He watched as she hung her bag on a hook by the door. She stooped out of sight for a moment before straightening with a large gray cat in her arms. The look of contentment, the way that her eyes closed as she gently hugged the long-haired creature sent a wave of longing through Draco. It was this longing that made him acutely aware that he was standing on a London street looking through a stranger's window. 

He ducked into an alley behind him and Apparated home. He went to his study to retrieve an empty glass vial before he gently brought his wand to tease the silver tendril of a memory from his temple to be collected. When he went to bed that night, he placed the vial next to her card near his bed, watching its glowing contents swirl and settle until he fell asleep. 

* * *

On Thursday morning, Draco decided on two things. One, he wanted to look around her flat for clues. And two, he wanted to visit her office. From her perspective, he figured, she had sent him off to hospital Monday afternoon and not being really sure how long a similar injury would take to heal the Muggle way, he assumed that three days later was an acceptable time before seeking out the kindly stranger that saved his life. 

And then what, he thought. Ask her out for coffee? Bring her flowers? He once got into a long conversation with Dean Thomas during Eighth Year that if a wizard or witch tried to go out on a date with a Muggle it would have to involve a constant stream of lies. Muggle Studies helped him appreciate some rough equivalencies and easier conversation topics, but so much of his life would be completely alien to a Muggle. He had to find out if this was the real Hermione Granger. She couldn’t be a Muggle.

He Apparated to the same alley across from the apartment building. It was late in the morning, around nine. A few children were playing farther up the street near a large park. The entry to the building led to a dimly-lit hall with a row of black post boxes with faded white labels. Somewhat in the middle he found H. Granger, 3A. Draco looked about and saw no one as he made his way up the stairs. Her flat was the first at the top of the stairs on the third floor. Glancing around furtively, Draco whispered an Unlocking Charm and slipped in. With his wand still up, he said “Homenum Revelio,” but nothing happened indicating that he was alone.

Draco nearly jumped when he saw the large gray cat sitting on the back of a chair eyeing him suspiciously. He held his hands up in surrender and moved slowly. The flat was warm and homey, with soft things like throw pillows and quilts in the living room, its walls a pale rose color. No wards had prevented him from entering either the building or the flat. 

He moved into the kitchen, the refrigerator magnets held a program from some ballet performance along with a few pictures of the unmoving Muggle variety. In one a teenaged Hermione was standing between her parents dressed in a pink formal dress. In another, she looked around the same age as Scorpius, sitting with two girls on a fallen log with a lake in the background. There was a postcard of a cartoon kangaroo that read _Miss you lots, Mum and Dad._

Art and framed pictures hung in the small hallway which led off to a bedroom, an office, and a bathroom. Bookshelves lined most of the walls in the living room and in the office as well. He noted the laptop that was centered on the office desk, but left it alone. He saved the bedroom for last. It had a feminine quality to it. White walls with the same blond wood floors as the rest of the house. A pale pink bedspread. No men’s clothes in the closet. As Draco was looking around, the cat yowled at him and jumped on the bed. 

There was nothing here. No magical protections or energy that he could appreciate. No explanation as to why this woman looked like and had the same name as the girl he once knew almost twenty years ago. Someone from the wizarding community had to have recognized her if she had just been living out here in the open. It didn’t make sense. Draco found it suddenly hard to breathe. If this Hermione was just a Muggle, it felt strangely like he had suddenly lost her all over again. A mocking voice in his head told him that she had never been his to lose.

The cat seemed to sense the change in mood and jumped off the bed to rub his head against Draco’s shin, stepping on his shoes. Draco smiled weakly and cast another look around the flat as he left, making sure that he had disturbed nothing. It was nearing lunch time and he figured that perhaps she would have a break and might be inclined to talk with him. He made sure to relock the door, and then began walking back towards Tottenham Court Road. He kept trying to remind himself that he wasn’t supposed to know her beyond the accident. Whoever this woman was, he was a stranger to her and any slip up that suggested otherwise would likely be seen as suspicious.

He noticed the bookshop where they had had their fateful collision. There was a café next door and he decided to look at the bakery selection and perhaps pick up something as a small gesture. He pointed to two lavender lemon scones and had them boxed with little containers of raspberry jam and clotted cream. Feeling less nervous with something in his hands, he made his way up the steps behind the glass door that read Granger Family Practice. 

“Hermione,” Harriet hissed from the door of one of the operatory rooms. Hermione didn’t look up from her patient, but stopped the whirring of the hand piece. 

“Need something, Harriet?” 

“How much longer here?” 

“Just polishing the bite. Almost done,” she replied, but directed her comment mostly to the patient out of habit.

“Okay,” Harriet replied somewhat briskly before rushing off. 

Hermione finished quickly and let her assistant Claudia escort the patient up the the front desk while she stripped off her mask and gloves. Harriet reappeared suddenly as Hermione was scrubbing her hands.

“Harriet, what’s with you today?” Hermione asked finally.

“So you know how your afternoon cleared off because that patient rescheduled?”

“Lucky fluke, I know. I’m looking forward to a hot bath and a book like the old lady that I am.”

“Well, maybe not. So you know your mystery blond, you know, with the head?”

Hermione look at her friend sharply. “Yeah?”

“He’s been in up front for 15 minutes waiting for you.”

“Harriet!? Could you have led with that?!” Hermione glanced nervously at her hair in the mirror.

“Hey, I did try to come get you, but figured your patient wouldn’t appreciate being abandoned for Really Fit Bloke in the Waiting Room.”

“Christ, Harriet. What do I even say to him? Probably thinks I was trying to sell him on dental services leaving my card like that.”

“Well he’s holding a box from that café that you like so I doubt he came to chat about porcelain veneers,” Harriet said with a reassuring air, “Not that he needs them, by the way. Great teeth. I snuck a peek when he was yawning.”

“You are true friend,” Hermione said solemnly.

Harriet herded Hermione towards the waiting area and Draco rose to his feet as soon as he saw her. 

“Hi, I’m Hermione...Granger,” she said extending her hand which he held for just a second longer than necessary.

“Draco. Draco Malfoy. I guess I came by to say thank you for, um, saving my life,” he said, the tips of his ears turning pink. He retrieved a small box from where he had been sitting and said, “I know it’s not much, but I brought scones and thought if you had time maybe we could, I don’t know, um, chat? Or I could just leave these if you'd rather... ” His voice sort of trailed off with uncertainty. 

Just behind him, Hermione caught sight of Harriet, Veronica, and Claudia on the other side of the front desk failing comically to pretend they were not opening watching this exchange. The phone was ringing and no one was moving to answer it. She had seen Claudia sneak in carrying Hermione’s purse, likely having quickly packed it up for the day at Harriet’s insistence. 

“Well, actually,” Hermione replied trying to stay calm which was difficult as she realized just how much taller this man was when standing up, “It turns out that I have the afternoon free, and if you don’t mind a short walk, there’s a nice park nearby. I just need to grab my purse.”

His face instantly brightened. “I think that would be lovely. I’m so glad you were free to join me,” Draco replied, in a smooth voice that elicited audible sighs from both Harriet and Veronica, much to their friend’s embarrassment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that that was a hecking long chapter with lots of segments but I'm so eager to get these two in bed already.
> 
> The mention of Dean Thomas here is background that will be explored in Green Was the Silence. Draco and Dean end up having to work together in Muggle Studies during Eighth Year. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	15. Out of the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Really long 2600+ word chapter. But there are sexy times.
> 
> _When she had invited him in, he felt pulled by a powerful unseen current. He could only nod as she told him to wait while she changed, her voice soft and low. She disappeared into the bedroom, leaving him to sit in a large armchair in her living room and to wait. For what he did not know. He wasn’t even sure what he wished that he was waiting for._

The two relative strangers fell into an easy pace beside each other as they walked to the public garden a few blocks away. Hermione had had the presence of mind to grab a lightweight jacket and shove a few pins optimistically into her hair before Harriet had shoved her out the door, but she dearly wished that she had been wearing a bit of makeup or literally anything other than her black scrubs. Draco wore a simple white shirt with the sleeves pushed up over well-muscled forearms and dark denim. Casual, but classic.

“I just can’t believe you’re really here,” Hermione said with a shake of her head as they walked, “I mean when I left you… I didn’t think… ” 

“It probably looked worse than it was. Truly, I am just fine. My mother always told me that I had a hard head,” he reassured cheerfully.

Hermione smiled warmly as she guided them towards a large fountain with a low stone wall wide enough to sit on comfortably. He placed the box between them as they settled near each other. 

“Like I said, it’s not much, but I thought it would be less awkward,” he said as he opened the box and gestured to it. After peering inside, she cocked her head with a puzzled expression.

“Oh, sorry, do you not like…” he started, but she put her fingers to the back of his hand.

“No, it’s just the strangest thing,” she said shaking her head again, “When I ran into you on the street, I was on my way to that café to buy these same scones. They’re my favorite.”

“Well, that’s a happy accident then,” he offered, “Seems be happening to me quite a lot lately, Dr. Granger.”

“Hermione, please,” she insisted.

“Hermione, then,” he said quietly.

They were silent for a moment just enjoying their scones and the midday sun. The park was abuzz with the sounds of birds and school-aged children playing. Hermione couldn’t help but feel like he was staring at her like she might disappear, and it had been some time since a man had looked at her with such... interest. For his part, Draco had completely lost track of his fact-finding mission, forgetting all of the questions that he had thought to ask her. All he could think about was the fact that she was sitting in front of him safe, bright-eyed, and smiling at him in a way that he had never seen Hermione Granger smile at anyone least of all him. 

Hermione closed her eyes and took a breath. “I am in love with the smell of fresh cut grass. It’s really pleasant here,” she said before adding, “With you.” 

“I have you to thank for the opportunity to be pleasant company,” Draco returned, “I really can’t thank you enough for seeing me to hospital. Truly.”

His earnest gratitude made her blush. “I was w-wondering…” she began shyly, “if you would perhaps see me home. If you didn’t have any other plans of course.”

“I’m all yours,” he replied. And, heaven help her, he smirked. 

* * *

When she had invited him in, he felt pulled by a powerful unseen current. He could only nod as she told him to wait while she changed, her voice soft and low. She disappeared into the bedroom, leaving him to sit in a large armchair in her living room. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for exactly. He wasn't even sure what he wished he was waiting for. 

_This is wrong_ , he told himself. He should stop this before it went too far. It wasn’t fair to her to do this when she didn’t know who he was and when she didn’t know who she was. Choosing this path would have consequences that he would not be able to undo. He knew that she deserved to know the truth whatever it was and that he should help her. In order to do that he would have to get closer and find out more, but with every minute he felt more pulled into this strange gravity. 

He tried to reason that there were two distinct Hermione Grangers. One version was a witch he once knew in another lifetime. The other was the woman who crashed into him less than a week ago, born wholly in that moment, set apart from the world he knew. As much as he felt certain that they were one in the same, the lack of explanation made it so much easier to pretend that they were separate. 

Hermione placed both hands on the edge of the bathroom sink for a moment, steadying herself against its cool surface. She took her hair down and raked her fingers through its length, eyeing her complexion with a slight frown. It wasn’t as if she had never invited a man up to her flat before. She was 37, nearly 38, and hardly a virginal school girl. However, her heart was fluttering against her ribcage as she tore through her closet looking for something to wear. She picked pale green summer dress, her legs and feet bare below its knee-length hem. A knit cardigan of darker green highlighted her small, delicate wrists. She hesitated in the hall for just a moment before quietly padding into living room. 

Draco was sitting in the armchair that faced away from her, staring out the window. The soft light of the setting sun fell upon his hair making it look like white gold. Crossing in front of him to sit on the couch, she gestured for him to join her. He swallowed, his expression unreadable as he moved to sit next to her, near to touching but not quite. 

“I don’t know why, but you keep looking at me like you know me.”

“Maybe I do.”

“You’re looking at me like I’m magical.”

“Maybe you are.” 

Hermione looked at him carefully as she inched her fingers closer to his, trying to gauge his reaction. She watched his eyes dart to their hands at first contact, and she almost pulled back, until his eyes returned to hers. 

“Draco?” she asked softly.

“Would you like… I mean, may I kiss you?” he asked, annoyed at the uncertainty in his voice. 

She didn’t answer, but let her fingers float up to his face to touch the soft almost invisible hair at his temple. He closed his eyes with a sigh. He brought his hand to the nape of her neck, his fingers entangling with her curls to pull her lips to his. At first, the kiss was tentative, almost asking, but quickly deepened until he was pulling her into his lap, the skirt of her dress gathering around her hips. Her hands roamed over his chest. Pausing for a moment, he brought her forehead to rest against his own as he framed her hips between his hands. 

“Are you sure about this?” he breathed, looking almost pained from effort of restraint, “We barely…”

“Shhh…” she whispered, grazing her fingers over his lips and giving him a clear nod. They continued on the couch until the room became dark. Then she carefully braced herself on the arm of the couch and swung a leg over his hips to stand. When he rose he reached for her again to bring his lips crashing against hers, his palm spanning the small of her back. He was nearly a head taller than her requiring him to curl down as he guided them towards the bedroom. Remembering that he was not supposed to know where her bedroom was, he forced himself reluctantly to break the kiss to give her a questioning look. 

As she turned to lead them her fingers swept down his arm from his shoulder to his fingertips. The sun had fully set and the bedroom was lit by soft moonlight. He came behind her to peel her sweater from her shoulders, kissing her neck as he gently brought the zipper of her dress down. Her skin seemed to shimmer in the dim light. When his hands followed his eyes, he nearly came undone with hunger. She turned in his arms so she could pull his shirt over his head as he kicked off his shoes and pushed his jeans and trunks over his narrow hips. 

Hermione drank in the sight of him, her eyes dark with lust. His body seemed carved from marble, tall with hard angular planes. She cast off her bra and panties as she moved backwards across the bed, her gaze never wavering as her arms reach for him. His palms studied the sensitive surface of her skin as it trembled with each of her breaths. 

“H-How are you here? You’re so beautiful…” he whispered breathlessly, his eyes raking over her. 

His question brought a small quirk to her brow, but it was quickly forgotten as his mouth closed over a pebbled nipple, dragging a whimper from her lips. Her skin burned hot under his touch. Then he reached for what he knew would be his death, his hand dipping to her sex already wet with desire. He groaned into her neck as her slickness glided easily over his fingers curling inside her. 

Hermione put her hand over his wrist to stay his ministrations.  “Condom,” she panted heavily.

Draco sat back on his knees trying to calm his breath. _What the fuck was a condom_ , his mind whirled, foggy with lust. After a moment, she twisted her body towards the nightstand and retrieved a small wrapped square which she held out to him. Not knowing what to do, he stalled by kissing her neck, his hard length pressing against her belly. By the grace of Merlin, she opened the packet herself. Draco couldn’t puzzle out the object’s purpose until she positioned it over the sensitive head of his cock and rolled what seemed like a thin sock down his straining length. A peculiarity of Muggle sex, he thought, wondering if anything else would be different. Outside of a bit of teenaged experimenting with Pansy Parkinson, the whole of his sexual experience had started and ended with Astoria. He had no time to ponder this for long as Hermione aligned him with her molten core. He sunk in slowly, inch by inch into her delicious tightness until he was buried to the hilt. 

When they began to move together, Draco gave a low groan. Her curls fanned out across the pillow, frizzing at the temple as a thin sheen of sweat flushed her face and chest. The heat of her drove him to madness and in turn drove his tempo ever faster. Being inside her was a kind of knowledge, he thought, in a subject that he could never know enough. Sooner than he expected, she tightened around him almost painfully. She cried out suddenly, her eyes searching for his acknowledgment. He rode wave after wave of her climax with her until he could no longer hold back his own release.

It was more of a wish than a spell, but he cast it just the same. In that perfect moment of knowing her, of wanting nothing more than to see everything inside her, a non-verbal Legilimens spell came into his mind, and he was helpless to stop it. He pulled back and found her eyes wide with wonder as his orgasm seemed to drop him into the bottomless depths of a Pensieve.

The memories which floated to the surface did not move. They were still pictures like the ones he saw in her kitchen. Her smiling with parents in front of red rocks. A summer beach, Hermione in sunglasses and red bikini. A stack of textbooks spread on a library table. Her standing over a model of a skull. Her sitting behind the wheel of a car. In graduation robes, a diploma in hand, a perfect smile on her lips. Just pictures flipping towards him, cold and without emotion.

Hermione was unsure why her fire dream came to her in that moment. But for the first time she could see herself as if from the eyes of the boy calling for her. She was younger, a teenager. Her hair was as wild as the fire behind her. She saw this younger self looking at the same shiny metal object she had seen before, but this time she noticed another item that she was holding. She wasn’t sure of the purpose of the carved wooden stick in her hand, but she sensed its importance. A pull towards it as if she could just reach out... 

Draco watched as her eyelids grew heavy and her face softened. She only sighed contentedly in response to his pulling himself from her gently. He waited a few minutes to be assured of her even breaths before reaching for his wand tucked away in his jeans. He cast a quick charm to clear away the mess of their pleasure (including the condom which found its way to the bathroom rubbish bin) then tucked his wand away again. He was parched, but didn’t dare summon water by magic in case she woke up, so instead he made his way to the kitchen and downed two pints of tap water before refilling the glass and returning to the room.

Her eyes fluttered open as he climbed quietly back into bed, his fingers gently tucking a curl behind her ear. She noticed the glass that he had set on the nightstand and lifted it to her lips, humming contentedly as she drank the cool water. “I think I must have dozed off for a moment. Sorry about that,” she said shyly.

“No need to apologize. You knocked me unconscious the first time we met. Turnabout's fair play, I suppose,” he said with a smile. _God, that's a beautiful smile_ , she thought. 

Draco was laying on his side with his head propped up on his elbow as he traced his fingers over her skin. When he had touched her earlier, he thought he had felt gooseflesh although the room wasn’t cold. However, on closer examination, there were scar-like markings across large parts of her torso and one arm. He followed a winding path from her left forearm up to her shoulder where it wrapped around her back and snaked its way around her torso. He brushed the backs of his fingers over where the ribbon of scaly skin dove down around her hip and trailed off after circling her right thigh. There was a faint iridescent quality to the barely raised skin that he thought was strangely beautiful. 

“How did this happen?” he asked finally, feeling self-conscious about the faded Dark Mark on his forearm tucked beneath her pillow.

“It’s a bit of a mystery. My parents and I were on holiday in France one summer when I was 18. We went to the beach for the day and I must have swam out too far from the shore. They aren’t sure what I managed to run into, but when I washed up...I, had, well, this…” 

Draco frowned. The strange beauty aside, the fact that it had appeared in the same year that she had disappeared from their world filled him with dread. He wish he had paid more attention in Care of Magical Creatures, and desperately searched his mind for beasts that could cause this kind of wound. Perhaps some kind of venom. His jaw tensed at the thought of her being hurt, the notion rousing some primal trigger.

Hermione, misinterpreting his frown for aversion, began to pull away feeling self-conscious. “I guess they take some getting used to. I mean, I’ve had them for so long that I sometimes forget. It’s been awhile since I’ve shown…” 

Draco stopped her with a deep kiss that made her go boneless in his arms. He finally rested his forehead and against hers and whispered, “You’re perfect, Hermione.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dramione fans rejoice! Sexy times at last with a pinch of "What the heck?" added to our mystery. With this chapter I have finally caught up to my "Draco/Harry and the Awkward Conversation" chapter that I have had written for weeks. I'll post it tomorrow after giving it an additional once over.
> 
> On a personal note, I have pretty extensive surgical scars across my chest, and the first time that my partner saw them, he breathed "You're perfect" with such wonder and sincerity that I truly felt magical for a moment. This was the inspiration for the last lines of this chapter.


	16. The Boy Who Lived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What are you playing at, Malfoy? Is this your idea of a joke?” he spat._
> 
> _Draco put his hands up and spoke as calmly as he could, “Look, I don’t know how it’s possible. But that woman is Hermione Granger.”_
> 
> _“That’s not possible,” said Harry said slowly._

Hermione woke to the lovely weight of a strong arm across her ribcage and warm breath on her neck. Her whole body still felt wonderfully tender. She twisted herself to lay her head on his chest, although the movement was made somewhat difficult by their entangled legs. He was just awake enough pull her closer, but did so with his eyes still closed. Glancing over his shoulder at the clock she sighed realizing she only had another hour before she need to leave for work. Not nearly enough time.

"I can hear you thinking,” he murmured into her hair.

“Oh yeah? What am I thinking?” she asked.

“That you want to spend all day in bed with me, but can’t."

“Amazing. You should consider joining a circus.”

“Do you really have to go?” he whispered into her ear.

“Unfortunately, I do have to get to work,” she returned, “Don’t you? Somehow we skipped that part of our second date, I think."

“Oh? I’m currently a man of leisure. I was doing academic writing for awhile, but I took up a teaching position in Scotland that doesn’t start until the fall,” he answered breezily, sticking as close to the truth as he could. 

“Scotland?” Hermione asked, a slight disappointed whine in her voice that made her bite her lip.

“Fall’s a long ways off yet. How about you hop in the shower and get ready for work and I’ll make us some tea, okay?” he replied, rubbing her back.

“Okay,” she sighed. As she stood in the early morning light, Draco watched with held breath until her nude body slipped out of sight.

The simple act of sitting with her at her small kitchen table grounded him in both the reality of the previous night and what he knew so far. She _was_ Hermione Granger that he had known since he was a child. He could tell by the way she moved and how she laughed. But in her London flat, she was also this brand-new adult Hermione who was affectionate, warm, and magical (though in a different sense of the word). 

He walked with her to work to put off parting for as long as possible. Draco bent down to kiss her soundly until she came away breathless, leaning into his chest to remain upright. He held her firmly by the hips as she grinned at him just outside the clinic door.

“I’ll see you at five?” he asked with a smirk, “Proper dinner this time to make up for last night?” 

As she nodded, Hermione noticed two older women staring at her and Draco with puzzled looks and it made her step away from him. But as soon as they had passed she stood on tip-toe to give him one last goodbye kiss. She watched longingly as he turned to head away from her down the street.

“Pretty sure he was wearing that same shirt yesterday,” came Veronica’s voice just behind Hermione.

When she whirled about, Hermione found her friend smiling at her with such smugness that she wanted to melt into the pavement. “Why Dr. Granger, I believe you’re blushing,” she crowed before adding, “Upstairs. Now. And no skimping on the details.”

As Hermione opened the door for Veronica, she happened to see a tall bearded man sitting on a bench who seemed to be looking directly at her with his eyebrows raised in surprise. If she didn’t know better, it almost looked like the man knew her.

* * *

After he left Hermione, Draco Apparated home and retrieved the glass vial containing his memory from that first day when he followed her home. He showered and dressed, though his thoughts wandered distractedly over the moments of the previous evening, making it hard to stay focused. 

Later in the afternoon, Draco straightened the collar of his emerald green robes as he stepped into an elevator. He hadn’t been to the Ministry of Magic in many years, and he felt overwhelmed by the throngs of witches and wizards hustling past him. Every step he made towards the Auror Headquarters filled Draco with enough dread to cause him to nearly abandon his course several times.

 _Why did I think this was a good idea_ , he asked himself. Maybe he should have owled first, but he couldn’t think of anything that he could put in a message. He debated several versions of “Hey wanted to chat about your dead best friend” or “Funny story, Hermione’s alive and a Muggle dentist” before deciding that there was no way to avoid meeting in person. He wrapped his fingers around the glass vial to be sure it was still there and took a steadying breath as a disembodied voice announced, “Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services.”

“To what do I owe this surprise, Malfoy?” Harry Potter asked from behind a large desk in his office.

Draco cautiously took a seat and replied, “Potter, there’s something that I need your help with."

“Auror help?” Harry asked looking concerned. Frankly, he didn’t know what to make of it when his assistant told him that Draco Malfoy was outside requesting to speak to him.

“Possibly, but it’s...” Draco voice faltered. _This already wasn’t going right_ , he thought. “I think it would be better if I just showed you.” There was a neat little tap as Draco placed the glass vial in front of Harry, its silvery contents swirled by the movement. 

Draco had assumed that Harry had access to a Pensieve. Harry picked up the bottle and stared at it with neutral curiosity. He got up from his chair wordlessly and Draco trailed behind him down the hall. Harry brought them into a small room with a stone pedestal in the center holding a glass vessel that lit the room with a faint blue glow. He glanced at Draco before tipping the vial into the Penseive which quickly pulled him into its surface. 

Harry recognized entrances to tube stations that told him he was in London. He was standing near a busy intersection with shops and restaurants lining both streets. He looked up and saw a sign for Tottenham Court Road. It sounded vaguely familiar to him for some reason. He wasn’t sure what he should be looking at until he saw Draco sitting at an outdoor café reading a newspaper. He suddenly appeared fascinated by something on the other side of the street, so Harry followed his gaze.

Harry thought his heart would stop. It was Hermione or what he assumed an older Hermione would look like. She was coming out of a building while laughing with another woman. She was speaking excitedly, her eyes bright as they embraced before parting in opposite directions. Harry looked back incredulously at Draco who stood and walked along on the other side of the street. He followed Hermione for about four or so blocks. She turned towards a brick building of what Harry assumed were flats. Hermione disappeared then reappeared in a large, street-facing window on the third floor. As the memory began to fade, he saw her smile, her eyes closing with contentment, as she brought a large long-haired cat to her chest. 

When Harry came back to the room he was gripping the sides of the Pensieve looking like he might vomit into it. Draco was leaning against the wall bracing himself for what was about to happen. Harry pulled out his wand and quickly cast a Muffliato charm over the room before he rounded on Draco with his eyes narrowed and his wand drawn. 

“What are you playing at, Malfoy? Is this your idea of a joke?” he spat.

Draco put his hands up and spoke as calmly as he could, “Look, I don’t know how, but that woman is Hermione Granger.” 

“That’s not possible,” said Harry said slowly.

Draco shook his head. “I was in London and ran into her. I literally ran into her, Potter. And she didn’t know me from Merlin. I hit my head so hard that I ended up in a Muggle hospital. And you should look at this,” he said as he pulled the business card from his pocket.

Keeping his wand hand up, Harry snatched at the card with the other. Draco watched the emotions play out over the other wizard’s face. _Is there an opposite feeling to grief_ , he thought to himself, _if you thought someone was dead and then they weren’t, do you go through the processing stages again or in reverse?_

Harry said nothing for some time. “Tell me everything that you know,” he finally said.

“As I said, I ran into her and hit my head. She got me to hospital and left me that card. I’m okay by the way, thanks for asking,” Draco couldn’t suppress a sneer, and Harry scowled.

“I went and talked to her. It’s her. It’s like… It’s like she never found out that she was a witch. Never went to Hogwarts. She went to university and became a dentist just like her parents. She’s been in London this whole time. She took over her parents’ clinic when they retired to Australia.” 

“How long have you been sitting on this before coming to tell me, Malfoy?”

“I w-wanted to wait. Until I could find out more. I…” Draco couldn’t meet Harry’s gaze, “And I used Legilimency...”

Harry blew up at this, “That wasn’t your fucking call to make! What made you think that you had any right to do that?! I am her family. The Weasleys are her family. You’re just…”

“I’m just what? Come on say it, Potter!" Draco spat, "After all this time just tell me that you still see me as the scared little shit calling her a Mudblood. Look I have spent most of my adult life with nightmares of her laying in her own blood and piss on my drawing room floor! I'm the one that saw her being pulled into the Fiendfyre! Can you not possibly imagine that anyone else would care about her? Merlin, you are still the same self-absorbed prat that you always were!”

Draco shook with unexpected rage, and Harry looked like he had been punched in the gut. Both were breathing heavily as if they had gone several rounds in a boxing ring and were waiting tensely for the next. 

“I didn’t see it happen, you know. Ron didn’t either. We weren’t looking when... We heard you yell her name, and then she was just... gone. And then at the Manor. Gods, we could hear her, but then she wouldn’t talk about it after, and we never got the chance...” Harry said quietly, not really directing it at Malfoy.

Draco said nothing, but closed his eyes with a pained expression. 

“But how could she have been in London this whole time? Someone would have seen her. Recognized her. It’s been...”

“...nearly twenty years. I know,” Draco finished Harry’s sentence.

The absence of a body had been somewhat expected with the Fiendfyre. Her wand had turned up when they searched the room after the battle. Harry kept the vinewood wand in his office, hidden out of sight, untouched for probably fifteen years or more. Occasionally, there had been reports to the Aurors with supposed sightings that had led nowhere. Harry knew that Ron had once secretly followed a tip that Hermione had been seen living in Germany, and neither spoke of it when he returned. Over the years, fewer and fewer of these reports were made.

 _Missing, assumed dead_ was how she appeared in the lists of casualties and on the war memorial wall in the Atrium that Draco had forced himself to ignore. He didn’t want to see those words and her name carved in stone. Carved so permanently. 

“What about Legilimency?”

“What?”

“What did you bloody see, Malfoy?” Harry snapped impatiently.

“It was...” Draco struggled to find the right words, “Happy. The memories that were there all made perfect sense. Graduating from university. Studying for exams. Her dad teaching her to drive. Her working with her parents. But there was a wrongness in the memories that I can’t explain. They didn’t move. They were pictures that seemed too perfect, too sterile. I suppose that it’s possible that they were implanted, but I can’t be sure."

Harry looked serious, “Are you suggesting dark magic might be involved? Because this is definitely Auror business if that is what you’re saying.”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I hadn’t cast a Legilimency charm in so long that I was surprised that I could even do it, Potter. I sort of did it by accident to be completely honest. I came here because you are better equipped to find out how this happened. I agree with you that it doesn’t make sense. Just erasing her memory wouldn’t account for no one seeing her or where she went that night. The castle wards should have prevented her from Disapparating. Maybe there was some kind of Concealment Charm, something complicated. I have looked into everything I have on Anti-Magic wards, but it doesn’t add up because...” Draco trailed off, becoming suddenly self-conscious about how he might be sounding like a raving lunatic.

However, Harry was struck by how much Malfoy sounded like, well, Hermione. It filled him with a strong pang of fresh grief. Some of his happiest moments since the war were made bittersweet by her absence, and he knew both Ginny and Ron felt the same way. _Oh God, Ron, how am I going to tell Ron_ , he thought.

Ron never really recovered from that May night all those years ago, the triple-blow of Hermione, Fred, and Lavender never fully healing. Harry’s friendship and the desire for vengeance carried Ron through his early days as an Auror, but as the years past by, it became apparent that he didn’t have the temperament for the work. He was too quick to anger and, at times, too quick to violence. Eventually, much to everyone’s relief, Ron’s brother Charlie convinced him to join him in Romania to work with dragons which seemed to be a much better fit for him.

Draco interrupted Harry’s melancholy thoughts by finally saying, “Potter...Harry. I need you to promise me that you'll be careful. That you aren’t going to hurt her.” 

"What do you mean? Why would I hurt her?” Harry asked, his indignation apparent.

Draco continued quietly, “She has a life. She’s happy. She has friends, a home. We would be taking that away from her.”

“But it isn’t real, Draco.”

Draco winced a little at the use of his given name. “It’s real to her. I thought about so many different scenarios and what the consequences might be with each. I tried to think about how maybe I could go slowly and, I don’t know, make this easier for her.” Then he added softly, “A selfish part of me doesn’t want to tell her. But I know I can’t do that. I also don’t think I should make this decision for her on my own.” 

Harry raised his voice sharply, “What do you mean you considered not telling her? What have you been doing with her? Pretending to be a Muggle? God, Malfoy, how long would you have kept up this charade?!”

“Right,” Draco said bitingly, “Do you remember finding out at eleven that every witch and wizard knew your whole tragic story? The famous Harry Potter, Boy Who Sodding Lived!? One look at that scar and you were a celebrity for something you couldn’t even remember. How exactly do you think this will go for her, hmm? To find out that decades of her life might not be real? That she was, no, _is_ a famous witch that everyone believed died in a war she doesn't even remember? What if we show up and tell her that she’s a witch and she no longer has magic abilities? What then? How do we tell her what happened during the war? What if the truth just ruins her life?”

Harry took his glasses off to rub his eyes. He had no answers. “The Ministry, the _Daily Prophet_ , Rita Bloody Skeeter. It would be mayhem. A complete nightmare for her. Gods, they’d never leave her alone.”

Draco nodded. “See what I mean? And there’s one more thing.”

“Sweet Circe's tit, how could there possibly be more, Malfoy?” Harry groaned.

“She has a scar. I don’t know if it means anything, but she said it showed up when she was 18 and she doesn’t know what caused it. Whatever it is, it is wrapped around her whole body,” Draco said.

“Well that might be...Wait, Malfoy, how would you…” Harry’s words trailed off, and Draco suddenly became extremely interested in the tiles on the floor.

“No...” Harry’s eyes widened with disbelief, “Malfoy, you wouldn’t dare.”

“I didn’t plan... It just, er, sort of happened,” Draco was struggling to find the words, “Fuck it. Look, I’m just trying to protect her. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Harry narrowed his eyes as he asked in a low tone, “What is she to you?”

”She is someone that I can’t see hurt again,” Draco said sincerely, “I can’t keep lying to her by not telling her what I know. But I know as soon as I do, she’s probably going to hate me forever.” 

Harry was saved from having to respond to this statement by the sudden appearance of his assistant.

“Merlin, there you are! Beggin' your pardon, Auror Potter, but we've a situation that needs your attention,” the witch said quickly.

“Regarding?” Harry asked.

The young witch glanced at Draco quickly before replying, “Hermione Granger, Sir.”

Draco felt like he had just been hexed at the sound of her name. A knowing look passed between the two wizards. Years of tactical experience allowed Harry to spring to action immediately. He grabbed Draco’s arm and Apparated them both back to his office where Harry’s desk was already buried under a pile of pale violet paper airplanes with URGENT stamped on the outside. Harry snatched at one and scanned it quickly. Draco was still reeling from the unexpected Side-Along as Harry grabbed a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ from a bookshelf. “Finite Incantatem,” he said, tapping the book with his wand. The book flew open revealing a hollowed slot containing a wand.

“Malfoy, do you know where Hermione is supposed to be right now?” Harry barked. 

“She should be at work, but what’s go…” Draco said, but was cut off.

“Whatever Concealment Charm that was keeping her hidden has stopped. Dozens of reported sightings are coming in.”

“Gods…” Draco breathed.

“There's no time. You need to get her out of there fast. Here, take her wand. I will meet you at Spinner’s End as soon as I can,” Harry said quickly, tossing the wand at him. 

“But, Potter...”

“Just go, Malfoy. We will figure this out later. Right now, there’s a crowd of witches and wizards gathering on Tottenham Court Road and I need to deal with that.” Draco gave him a curt nod before Disapparating, just as Minister Shacklebolt was storming into Harry’s office. 

* * *

Draco Apparated to an alley next to the clinic, and glanced around the corner to confirm what Potter had told him. About twenty people who looked like they had wandered from Diagon Alley stood expectantly by the clinic’s front door. Draco ducked back into the alley before anyone could see him. It had only been three o’clock when he had left the Ministry, Hermione was presumably still at work and there were bound to be Muggles in the clinic.

 _Fuck_ , he swore under his breath. He looked down and remembered with a groan that he was still wearing his wizarding robes. He transfigured his robes into Muggle clothing quickly before Apparating to the hallway at the top of the stairs leading up to the clinic, ready with an Obliviate spell if someone was in the hall. Thankfully, the hall was empty, and he rushed towards the door to the waiting area. 

Hermione was talking to the front desk receptionist about her schedule for next week when she looked up and saw Draco glancing around anxiously. She watched as he took a steadying breath before he spoke. 

“Hey, Hermione, I know we were meeting at five, but something’s come up and I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute. Privately,” he said, hoping that he sounded calmer than he felt.

“Uh, sure,” she said uncertainly, “Here, come back with me to my office.” 

Draco stepped past the front desk and followed her down a hallway. He inwardly cringed a bit at the various whirring sounds coming from different directions as they walked by treatment rooms. She brought them into her small office and shut the door, before turning towards him with a questioning look.

“Draco, what’s…” she started.

“Hermione,” Draco seemed almost sad as he said her name, “I’m sorry.”

Draco had seen her purse on her desk and made a quick decision to grab it as he took her arm and Apparated them to his sitting room. She very nearly retched from the sudden shock to her system before her eyes began to dart about wildly. Draco was holding her elbow and guiding her back towards an armchair.

“What the hell just happened? Where are we, Draco?” Hermione hissed, the panic rising in her throat threatening to make her sick.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands holding her forearms still as she tried to shake him off. 

“Please don’t be afraid,” he whispered, “I’m so, so sorry. There was no other way.”

“No other way to what?” 

“I don’t think you are who you think you are,” he said cryptically.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice shrill.

Draco looked deeply into her brown eyes while he tried to prioritize a mental list of what he could possibly tell her that would not lead to a million more questions. All he wanted to do was hold her and run his hands through her curls, but knew that she was waiting for an explanation. The way that she was looking at him told him that he needed to say something soon before she became hysterical.

“This is my home,” he said at last.

She looked around the room and then back at him before asking, “How did we get here?”

“I brought you here...with magic,” he said slowly.

Hermione tried the words out, “With magic. Right.”

He sighed and leaned his forehead against her knee for a moment. He stood up and offered his hand which she thankfully took. He led them past the stairs and through the dining room where he set her bag down before taking them into the kitchen. He gestured for her to sit at the kitchen counter as he filled a kettle with water from the tap and took out two mugs. 

“Where are we, Draco?” she asked, looking around.

“Cokeworth,” he said, his back to her as he cast a non-verbal spell to boil water.

“That’s three hours at least from London. More on a Friday,” she stated plainly.

“Only if traveling the Muggle way,” he countered.

“Uh, the Muggle way?” she asked.

“Non-wizarding people. People who don’t use magic.”

“So, I’m a 'Muggle' then?”

Draco placed a mug of tea of in front of her with a sigh.

“No, Hermione, I don’t think you’re a Muggle. And that’s why I had to bring you here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this Sudden Turn of Events. The cat's out of the bag: Hermione's alive, and magic is a thing, apparently. Things are a dang mess, but Draco's got her squirreled away at Spinner's End for now, leaving Harry on damage control and containment.
> 
> Draco's playful banter is probably a little too good for a sexually inexperienced introverted widow, but he's a sharp boy and I think that his smooth moves dust off pretty quick. I feel that he did the responsible (aka redeemed) thing by going to Harry. He knows he's out of his depth, and he cares about what happens to her. 
> 
> I also really liked this exchange with the Harry and Draco because I think that this conversation never really happens in canon. I wanted some kind of mutual acknowledgment of "I know things sucked for you, too, but I still think you're a bit of a dick."


	17. A Place to Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Harry whirled around and crossed the short distance to her. He wanted to throw his arms around her, but when he saw confusion in her face, he tempered himself and just took her hands in his. His eyes raked across her as if trying to memorize her. Her damp hair was piled in a loose bun on top of her head and she looked whole and healthy. No bags under her eyes from hours of research, no terror in her expression. When he last saw her, she had been malnourished after their months on the run and her eyes had taken on a look of "constant vigilance" that never rested._

_“So, I’m a 'Muggle' then?”_

_Draco placed a mug of tea of in front of her with a sigh._

_“No, Hermione, I don’t think you’re a Muggle. And that’s why I had to bring you here.”_

* * *

Hermione sat quietly with this statement. She held the mug of tea to warm her hands instead of drinking it. She had had the oddest feeling ever since the accident on Monday and now Friday had brought this even more bizarre turn of events. She recalled how often her mind had wandered this week to the way his lips wrapped around her name as if he knew her. And now she was sitting in his kitchen supposedly hours away from London.

“Am I in some kind danger?” she asked cautiously, “Here with you?”

“You're not in danger from me if that's what you're worried about,” he chose his words carefully, “I was asked to bring you here until some things could be sorted.”

Hermione had too many questions, but she could sense his need to sound reassuring. “I don’t know where to start, Hermione,” he finally said rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m trying not to overwhelm you. And this is not how I wanted things to go. When I saw you on Monday, I thought I imagined it. But then you left your card, and then yesterday...” his voice petered off at the end.

“Can I ask a question?” she continued when he nodded, “You keep talking as if you know me. Like you know things about me. Do you?”

“I’m fairly certain that I do. What I don’t understand is why you don’t remember that we know each other and why you don’t remember that you’re a... never mind. But I promise that we are working on figuring it all out.”

“We?”

“I contacted an old friend… of yours.”

“Are you and I old friends?”

“Not exactly. Well, not at all. We went to school together. You punched me in the face when I was 13 but I deserved it," he said with weary smile.

Hermione’s brows knitted in confusion and tried to digest this. She found herself searching Draco’s face trying to imagine what he looked like as a teenager. His eyes were so familiar, so much like the boy in the fire dream. She had been having that same dream off and on for years, and maddeningly could never figure out what it meant.

“Draco,” she said hesitantly, “For the longest time, I’ve had this recurring dream. About a boy... and a fire. Is there-”

Draco suddenly rushed around the counter to pull her into a fierce embrace. He wrapped his arms around her so tightly that she was barely able to breathe as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Hermione wasn’t sure what to do other than to put an arm awkwardly around his waist. They stayed that way for some time with his heart beat pounding against her ear before he pulled away just enough to look at her face. She was surprised at the unshed tears in his eye.

“Oh, Hermione, I’ll never let anything hurt you again, I swear it.”

“Again?” she asked, cocking her head to one side.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” he said after he took a staggering breath to steady his voice. Then, glancing at the clock, he added, “Uh, I still owe you dinner. Would you like to get cleaned up while I cook? I can find you something to wear if you want to change.”

Hermione looked down at her scrubs and nodded. She took his hand as he led her up the stairs to his bedroom. He gestured to the bathroom and handed her a fresh towel.

“I’ll just leave clothes on the bed. Take your time. I’ll just be downstairs when you're done."

As soon as the bathroom door closed, Draco went down the hall to Scorpius’s room, plucking a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, and a pair of socks. He supposed that he could have transfigured something, but decided to hold off on using too much magic around her yet and luckily she was about the same height Scorpius. He did conjure a simple cotton bralette and knickers and hoped that it wasn't too forward of him. He didn't have time to second guess himself because the fireplace in the sitting room roared to life just as Draco reached the bottom of the stairs. Harry was dusting excess Floo powder from his burgundy Auror robes when Draco went to greet him.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy.”

“She’s upstairs in the shower. I was about to make an early dinner. I guess I'll make you a plate?”

Harry paled at the thought that Hermione might be just upstairs. He had tried to prepare himself, but now that he was standing there, being invited for dinner as if this was a normal social call, he felt a bit at sea. This feeling continued as he followed Draco into the kitchen and watched his childhood nemesis pluck items from the pantry and set about making a meal of pesto pasta.

“Did you find out anything?” Draco asked while opening a bottle of white wine.

“Reports of sightings started as early as Monday evening. Minister Shacklebolt threw his weight around to squash the _Daily Prophet_ from printing anything and witnesses were told that the situation is under investigation. Warnings about the Wizarding Secrecy Statue and all that. It won’t last forever, but it buys us a little time. Did you find out anything? Or tell her anything?”

“It’s hard to know what to tell her. I told her that I brought her here with magic, and she seemed to accept that more or less without panicking for now. I told her that you were an old friend and that we were working to help her though not with what exactly.”

“I think we should talk about what we should tell her,” Harry started but he was cut off by a sharp look from Draco.

“Tell me about what?” Hermione asked as she stepped into the kitchen.

Harry whirled around and crossed the short distance to her. He wanted to throw his arms around her, but when he saw confusion in her face, he tempered himself and just took her hands in his. His eyes raked across her as if trying to memorize her. Her damp hair was piled in a loose bun on top of her head and she looked whole and healthy. No bags under her eyes from hours of research, no terror in her expression. When he last saw her, she had been malnourished after their months on the run and her eyes had taken on a look of "constant vigilance" that never rested.

“Hermione?” he asked, tears threatening his green eyes. She gave him a small smile. “Do you remem… I’m Harry,” he said at last.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, eyeing the man’s strange wine-colored cloak and untidy black hair.

“Dinner’s ready. Shall we?” Draco interrupted with a soft cough.

Harry dropped Hermione’s hands and nodded. As the three sat down to their meal, the food and wine gave them an excuse to put off talking for a bit. Hermione took a sip of wine and finally broke the silence by saying, “So is someone going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Well, we aren’t completely sure yet how it happened, but we think you’re Hermione Granger,” Harry said.

“But I am Hermione Granger,” she said pointedly.

“Yes, but the Hermione Granger that we knew… she died or we thought she died… in an accident.”

“Did the accident involve a fire?” she asked, a wariness in her voice.

Draco and Harry glanced at each other quickly. “Yes,” Draco confirmed.

“How did you know that?” Harry asked.

“I’ve... dreamt it. I have for years ever since I got this scar,” she replied, gesturing to her left arm.

“Hermione?” Draco asked, the both of them staring at the inside of her left forearm where the skin was smooth and unblemished. Her breath quickened as she looked at were the mark now ended on her upper arm.

“It’s gone,” she whispered.

“That's...something to look into,” Harry said distantly. He continued after taking her hand in his, “When you were 18 in our world, you disappeared in a fire. As far as I can tell, whatever happen did at least three things. One, you clearly were protected from the fire. Two, you seem to have a completely different timeline where you never met me when you were 11. And three, you have somehow been concealed from those in the wizarding world until now. That is some seriously powerful magic, and I am honestly not sure how it happened.”

“Concealed? Wait, did you say wizarding and _magic_?” Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

Harry turned to Draco, “Malfoy, based on the sighting reports, I think the Concealment Charm lifted on Monday after your accident. Someone thought they saw her outside the hospital. Your meeting her... It may have triggered something. You were there with us that night, do you remember anything that you could have done?”

Draco stared at his wine and thought about Harry’s theory and Hermione’s changed scar. “I didn’t have a wand on me. Remember, Potter? I didn’t… couldn’t cast a spell.”

“It’s just a theory. We will look into it further. I'd like to take a look at your memories from that night at some point.” Draco nodded.

“So what happens now?” Hermione whispered, not really knowing how to respond to comments about wands, spells, and looking at memories.

“Well, I told Mal- Draco here that I have bought some time for you to figure out what you want to do, but eventually people in our world will want to know what happened to you which may make things difficult at first.”

“Difficult how?”

“You were… well-known. A war heroine. The brightest witch of our generation. There are many people that would be impacted by you being alive. Without your memories about what happened to you between the ages of 11 and 18, I imagine that that will be very overwhelming. A lot to take in."

“It's already a lot to take in. But I don't understand. It doesn't make any sense. I wasn't in some other world when I was growing up. The memories that I have, are you saying that they aren't real?” Hermione asked, her mind flooding with thoughts of her parents, Harriet, and Veronica.

“That we won’t know until we figure out what kind of magic made you disappear. In the meantime, I think that it would be best if you stayed with Draco so he can make sure that you aren’t seen by anyone else. I would like your permission to tell a few people whom were close to you when you were younger. My wife Ginny and her family were like family to both you and me. Her brother Ron and I, the three of us, w-we were friends. The very best friends,” Harry said, his voice becoming more and more strained towards the end.

“Look, I can't just disappear. I have a job and friends. I have a bloody cat to worry about, ” Hermione said, more sharply than she intended. She felt uncomfortable with his emotional response that she had no context for understanding.

"Hermione, please," Draco pleaded, reaching across the table. "We know this is a lot. Truly. If you could just give me a little time to explain-"

"I... I have patients on Tuesday. I can have a neighbor look in on my cat, but you have to promise that I can go back on Tuesday," Hermione said after a long pause. Draco nodded with relief.

Harry drained the last of his wine as he stood from the table. “Well then, I best be getting on. I appreciate the dinner. I will send some pictures that I think Ginny has. Might help. I will let you know if I find out anything, Malfoy.”

Draco and Hermione stood and followed Harry into the sitting room. Harry shook Draco’s hand with a curt nod. Turning to Hermione, he pulled her abruptly into his arms and whispered in her ear, “I don’t bloody care how it happened, I am just happy you are alive. I've missed you, I love you so much, Hermione. We all do.” He turned away with a sob then tossed Floo powder into the flames and called up 12 Grimmauld Place before he disappeared.

“Is he? Wha- Where? How?” Hermione asked, frantically examining the fireplace and feeling its heat. She then noticed a few silver picture frames on the mantle and in each the subject of the photograph moved slightly as if playing a short video loop. A beautiful woman with dark hair and sad eyes seemed to be watching her from several frames. Hermione stared at them for a long while before turning a questioning expression to Draco.

Draco smiled weakly and took her hand to lead her to a small couch under the window. The sun had set and the lights in the wall sconces were glowing warmly. He gestured towards the fireplace and explained, “Wizards can travel between fireplaces that are connected by a network. That powder there is thrown in first and then you say the name of the place that you want to go before walking through.”

“Is that how you brought me here from London?” she asked.

“No, I brought you here by Side-Along Apparition which is another way to travel. What else do you want to know?”

“Everything,” she breathed at last.

“Uh, perhaps you should sort out your cat first. Do you need to call someone?” Draco asked nodding towards the table where he had left her purse. She nodded and stood to retrieve her phone to send off a text to her neighbor about being away until Tuesday. There would be too many questions if she asked Harriet or Veronica. _What would they think_ , Hermione wondered.

“You know it’s funny. After you spent the night, I didn’t get your number. We just agreed to meet the next day, but I didn’t have a way to call you,” she said shaking her head.

“I actually don’t have one of those,” Draco admitted, nodding towards the Muggle device, “We don’t typically use telephones. I had one for a little while as kind of a novelty, but didn’t get much use out of it.”

“Oh,” she said as she sat back on the couch. She hugged her knees to her chest, her sock-clad feet crossed at the ankles. “So how would I have contacted you if I was a… I mean, is there another way?” she asked uncertainly.

“Well Owl Post is pretty reliable. And of course we can just Apparate if we need to talk to someone immediately.”

As if timed, Draco heard a tapping coming from the kitchen door. Hermione followed him curiously back through the house into the kitchen and watched as he opened a biscuit jar before opening the door. Her eyes widened as a large owl flew in and released a letter and a small padded envelope onto the counter.

“Like an _actual_ owl post?” Hermione asked incredulously. Draco smiled as Bert plucked the biscuit from his fingers and flew back out the door.

Draco recognized his mother’s handwriting and family seal on the smaller piece of mail and opened it first. He only glanced at the first few sentences telling him how much fun they were having with Scorpius. _Fuck, I didn’t tell her about Scorpius_ , he thought to himself, _And, Merlin, what about Posy?_ He needed to explain Posy if Hermione was going to be here on Monday

“Something the matter?” Hermione asked, touching his forearm.

“No, it’s just… It’s from my mother. My son is with my parents until Monday,” he said.

“You have a son?” she whispered.

“Yeah, he’s 11. I was going to tell you, but then...”

“It’s okay, Draco. It’s already a lot to take in, so I understand,” she said softly with a weak smile.

Draco moved on to the padded envelope. He untied the string around it and realized that inside would be the pictures that Potter had promised to send. Hermione could see that his hands were shaking and that his eyes had closed. She took the envelope from him and set it back down on the counter. She hesitated for a moment then she slid her arms around him and brought her head to his chest. It felt strange that less than 24 hours ago they were shagging in her flat, and memories of the previous evening brought heat to her cheeks.

“I wish things were different. I wish I could just keep you to myself,” he whispered, wrapping her in his arms.

“I don’t understand any of this,” she said softly, “But I’m here now for what it's worth.”

Draco put his lips to her temple, kissing a gentle path down towards her jaw before finding her mouth. His tongue parted her lips in a kiss that began gently but soon grew hungry and demanding. The way that Hermione moaned into his mouth as she matched the growing intensity of his kiss shot a current through his veins. When he paused to catch his breath, his eyes were dark with want.

“Is...is this okay?” she panted, rendered similarly breathless.

Draco bit his lip and nodded. He walked backwards a few steps, his heart in his throat until she moved to follow him. He took her hand and led her back upstairs to his bedroom. He had dimmed the bedroom lights before he pulled her into his arms again as she walked him backwards until he was sitting at the foot of his bed. Her impatient fingers sought his shirt buttons as she stood between his long sprawled legs. He peeled her shirt over head and pressed his mouth to her neck until she confessed her arousal with a whimper.

Her lips sought the expanse of skin that she revealed as she finished unbuttoning his shirt, sinking down to her knees at his feet. Her warm amber eyes sought his approval as she proceeded to the buttons of his trousers, her fingers grazing him as she liberated his swollen length. As she wrapped a sure fist around its girth, she smiled at his white-knuckled grip of the edge of the bed, the tension in the muscles of his jaw coiled like a spring.

An uncontrolled moan escaped his lips when he felt her warm mouth take in the weeping tip of his cock. He watched mesmerized as each inch sunk into that wet oblivion. He release her hair and carded his fingers through her thick mane which caused a pleasured noise to vibrate around his aching erection. Her hands reached around the small of his back, pressing her fingers into the tense muscles there to pull his hips closer, her nose nuzzling through his blond thatch. His eyes that had fluttered closed snapped open as he felt the head of his cock nudge just past the back of her throat, its sudden impossible clench around his sensitive head driving him delirious.

“Please,” he whispered, curling forward to bring his head closer to hers, “I w-won’t last like… Feels too…”

She met his gaze in acknowledgment before a shudder rippled through his whole body. She pupils were blown wide with desire, her lips wrapped vise-like around the base of his cock. His fingers in her hair clutched as if he was trying to hold onto his last shred of sanity. Hermione had taken him so deeply that she barely had to swallow as ropes of his seed shot straight down her throat. She felt his hands relax as his breathing slowed, his eyes still closed.

Disjointed memories drifted to him slowly as if he were passing them while floating down a wide river. A slightly younger Hermione asleep in an armchair with an open book resting against her chest. Her reluctantly taking the arm of a faceless man at a party, nervous anticipation running through her. The same man arguing with her in her kitchen as she swatted away tears of rage while rain beat against the window. Another scene, this one of her face illuminated by Christmas lights, her parents in the background whispering to each other with worried expressions.

“Hey?”

Draco blinked slowly as some sense of equilibrium returned to him. He was laying at the foot of his bed, his long legs still hanging off the edge, but she had curled up next to him. She was running her fingers through his hair, smiling once she saw his eyes begin to focus again.

“Thought I lost you there for a minute,” she whispered, “Didn’t know if I should be concerned or just proud of my skills.”

“The latter. Definitely,” he said with a sigh which made her smile.

“Draco, I meant to ask earlier, but where did this come from?” she asked gesturing to the bralette that she was still wearing.

“Just something I made. It...looks good on you,” he replied. He tucked himself back into his trousers, but left his shirt unbuttoned as he scooted up towards the head of the bed and pulled her with him. The press of her body against him and the cozy weight of her still sweatpants-clad leg draped over his thigh made him sigh with contentment.

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. Draco hadn’t wanted to overwhelm her with too much magic immediately, but he could tell that her curiosity was growing steadily. His thoughts were mulling over what he saw when he climaxed. It did not feel like Legilimency. There was no active seeking on his part. He didn’t know how to ask her about what he saw. 

“Before I forget, um, wizards don’t use those cone-dims,” he said somewhat sheepishly.

“You mean condoms? How do you…if you want to prevent pregnancy?” she asked.

“Well, there are a couple of options. Potions that can be taken regularly or ones that you can take before or after. And there are spells, too. I haven’t had to think about it in a long time to be honest.”

“You said your son is 11. Are you...divorced?”

“Widowed. Ten years ago,” he replied quietly.

Hermione didn’t know what to say, but snuggled closer to him and let her hand rest over his heart. He felt calm and peaceful despite the energy of desire still crackling between them. He sat up briefly to push his shirt the rest of the way off. His glanced down absently and Hermione felt his whole body go stiff. She followed his gaze to the pale skin of his forearm. She couldn’t see anything and wasn’t sure why he seemed to be holding his breath.

“What’s wrong, Draco?”

“There was… a tattoo. I’ve had it since I was a teenager. And it’s gone,” he whispered, his fingers searching the flawless skin in disbelief.

Hermione glanced at her own mysteriously restored forearm again before saying, “Draco, what is this? What's happening to us?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know,” he replied honestly, “But I need to tell Harry about this.”

He rolled off the bed and pulled on a fitted t-shirt before he held out his hand to her. Hermione scooted off the edge and plucked the shirt she had been wearing off the floor as she followed him up the stairs to his study. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she examined the shelves of books, potions ingredients, and the cauldrons hanging from a rack above a large work bench. He sat down at his desk, but couldn’t help smiling at the child-like wonder in her face as she read ingredient labels and cocked her head to the side to read book titles.

 _Potter_ , he penned quickly, _We haven’t looked at the pictures yet, but thank you for sending them. I have some news. My Dark Mark has completely disappeared some time in the last 24 hours. I don’t know what that means. I did not think that it could be removed. I know no other former Death Eaters that have. Let me know what you think about the memories I am enclosing. -DM_

Draco opened his desk drawer and pulled out an empty vial. He reached for his wand from behind his back and his brow furrowed when his fingertips felt the unfamiliar presence of a second wand. He pulled out both and set hers on his desk before drawing his own to his temple while concentrating on the event outside of the Room of Requirement. Hermione had looked over as he guided the swirl of light into the vial.

“What is that?” she whispered, her eyes glued to the vial in his hand.

“A memory,” he replied, “From the night you disappeared. Harry is an Au-, well, he is involved in law enforcement and he will be able to do some investigation."

Her fingers were moving towards the glass vial and its shimmering contents when her gaze shifted to the ornately-carved light-colored wand laying next to it. Hermione’s hand felt pulled as if by magnetic attraction. Her fingers were nearly on it when she yanked her hand back, suddenly self-conscious at her response.

“It’s yours, Hermione. Harry kept it all these years.”

“Mine?” she whispered not taking her eyes from it.

“It chose you when you were 11, just before you started school,” Draco explained picking up the vinewood wand, just a bit longer than his own. He handed it to her gently, both excited and apprehensive about what might happen. He watched as her fingers made contact and her face as a wave of magical energy swept through her body, wand and witch reunited after decades apart. She looked at Draco with questioning eyes before quickly putting the wand back down, the strange energy flickering away from her as she released it. He gave her an encouraging smile. He had told Harry that he was worried that she might no longer have the capacity for magic, and somehow reintroducing her to her wand seemed to suggest that the capacity at least existed. Draco pulled out a second vial and drew out the memory of giving Hermione her wand and quickly stoppered it like the first.

“I’m going to send these to Harry, and then would you be up for looking at pictures he sent?” he asked to which she nodded.

He summoned a small box which he addressed to Grimmauld Place and tucked the vials and letter inside with a Cushioning Charm. Hermione watched in fascination as the package flew across the room. She was certain that it was going to crash into the round glass window and she was even bracing herself for the sound when the center of the window opened like a mouth to allow the box to pass. Hermione rushed quickly to the other side of the room to look out the window just in time to see Bert take off from the hawthorn tree, holding the box by its strings, and disappear in the night. She shook her head incredulously as she touched her hand to the cool, and very solid, glass of the window.

* * *

They ended up back downstairs in the sitting room, curled up together on the couch. Draco removed the small stack of photographs from the envelope. These were pictures that he had never seen before, but he did his best to explain when he could. Many were taken at Hogwarts or in Hogsmeade. Others he assumed were taken at the Burrow. He watched her face, eyes drawn in concentration as she watched a younger version of herself laughing and smiling in these pictures. “I don’t understand,” she said softly as she reached the bottom of the stack, the last picture was one of several red-headed children on flying brooms, “If this really happened, if this really is me, why don’t I remember?”

“Hermione, this may sound strange, but last night when you… when we were… did you see anything? Perhaps a memory or an image that you didn’t recognize?” Draco asked, his cheeks blushing slightly as he hoped that she would understand what he was talking about.

“Well, now that you mention it, yes. I told you that I have these dreams about a fire. Last night when we were together, the dream sort of popped into my head. But it was different. All the other times I only ever saw a boy looking at me, but last night it was like I was watching myself. And I think, I think I was holding that wand.”

"That's the last time I saw you," Draco said heavily, his hand cupping her cheek, "You saved my life and then you disappeared."

Hermione kissed his palm and held his glassy-eyed gaze. "I'm here," she whispered and gave him an encouraging smile.

“Well, both last night and earlier, when I...finished, I was able to see some of your memories.”

“What!?” she asked turning to look at him.

“Nothing scandalous. Last night they were kind of scattered images. Mostly just you and your family. Some of your friends and school. That sort of thing. But, earlier tonight, I saw you asleep in your armchair and then you were arguing with someone in your kitchen. Then you were with your parents and looking at Christmas lights. I’m not sure, but I guess if you were thinking of someone else when we were...”

“Oh, Draco, no. That sounds terrible when you say it that way,” she said, tucking her head under his chin, “I really liked what we were doing. I liked the way you were looking at me when I was going down on you. But I guess it made me think of an ex-boyfriend I had who told me that I, well, that I wasn’t very good at oral sex.”

“That's completely barmy. Was he completely insane?” Draco asked so earnestly that Hermione snorted with laughter.

"Point taken. So we have sex that causes random telepathy and removal of scars and tattoos? Are we on the same page with that?"

"So far as we know. But I think it needs more research. Lots more research."

<em>A three-day weekend with this perfect witch</em>, he thought with a grin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I combined the last two chapters into this one because I think that it flowed better. That does mean that I lost this comment from Dyan Arnold (@Chalice13) 
> 
> "WOW, not just her scars, but his? This had better not be a dream sequence! I love that Hermione is being so accepting, but she may just be in shock and thinking she's hallucinating. Still there may be an underlying residual memory that's allowing her to accept without hysteria. This is so good! Can't wait for more!"
> 
> And my reply: "She's too naturally curious to completely reject and shut down. I think that there's a pull that she is sensitive enough to feel towards magic, and he is being careful to go slowly. Still it has to be a mindfuck of cognitive dissonance to be presented with an alternate timeline that she is starting to feel could be real."


	18. The Writing on the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Wiping the tears from her face, Ginny sniffed once and exhaled heavily before speaking again, “Harry, we need to keep this between us right now until we know more. You know Ron. He's...too fragile to hear about this yet. Oh Gods, Hermione! This all must be so terrifying for her. Where is she now?”_
> 
> _“She’s with Malfoy at Spinner’s End. He’s... I don’t know what’s going on between them actually. He's trying to keep her safe.”_
> 
> _“So hell has officially frozen over then,” the redhead said dryly and Harry’s mouth quirked up into a smile._

“I recognized er at vunce. Vouldn’t have noticed but she vas all over that Malfoy. Thought she died in the var, no? Have not seen much of Malfoy either, hmmm? Ah, pretty girl, pretty boy, make pretty-pretty...” Nicolai Jorga slurred with a leer into his fourth glass of fruit brandy at a dark bar in the Romanian wizarding district of Bucharest. His robes were dingy after a day of travel, but he was in celebratory spirits, excited to offload the repaired dragon egg incubator he had picked up from his underground supplier in Knockturn Alley.

Sitting next to Jorga at the bar were the two Weasley brothers, Ron and Charlie, whom were exchanging serious looks with each other. Jorga was far too inebriated to notice the way that the one (he could never remember which was which) went stiff with anger even when the other brother placed a restraining hand on his forearm. The swarthy wizard stroked his black beard thoughtfully before raising his glass and said cheerfully, “ _Noroc_ , Veasleys! All-vaze pleasure doing business vith you,” and with that, the old man slid greasily down the bar towards an older witch in garish magenta robes.

“Ron, look I am sure it's nothing. He's a fall-down drunk. He can’t hardly tell us apart when he’s sober,” Charlie said gently. Ron's eyes were dark as he poured himself another drink from the pitcher at the table silently. They needed to get on with bringing the incubator back to the dragon sanctuary north of the city, but Ron snapped at Charlie to leave him be. Charlie knew that there would be no way of separating Ron from the drink short of bodily removing him from the bar. He certainly didn’t fancy a brotherly barroom brawl on a Friday night. Charlie frowned thoughtfully. Ron could be seemingly fine for months, but out of nowhere a trigger like this would send him spiraling into a week-long bender.

“Alright, mate, I’m going to take the incubator back. I’ll see you at home tomorrow, okay?” Charlie said, using the same calm voice that he reserved for particularly cantankerous Norwegian Ridgebacks. With no further comment, he stood up to speak to Ana the barkeeper, handing over galleons for their drinks and also for lodging Ron for when he inevitably would pass out later. Ana squeezed Charlie's hand affectionately with a soft smile. This was hardly the first time that he had asked her for this particular favor. He pressed vials of Sober Up and Pepper Up into her palm. _Just in case_ , his smile communicated silently. Ron would not willingly take either, but it made Charlie feel better knowing that they were available. Ana gave Charlie a reassuring smile and kissed him on the cheek as he left. The eldest Weasley sighed heavily as he stepped out into the warm summer night, thinking about the brothers he lost during the Battle of Hogwarts. Fred may have been the one that died, but Ron had never really come home after that night either.

* * *

“Harry, is that you, love?” Ginny called out from her home office when she heard the fireplace roar downstairs. She had just been finishing an article for her editor at the _Daily Prophet_ which covered the decisive victory of her former Quidditch team the Holyhead Harpies against their Welsh rivals the Caerphilly Catapults. She was had been waiting for her husband to get home from work so that they could travel to the Burrow for the weekend, their three children already staying with her parents at the Weasley family home.

When Ginny heard no response, she came down in search of Harry. Still wearing his Auror robes, he sat on the couch staring at the fire with unseeing eyes, his shoulders were slumped and shaking slightly. Ginny reached out a cool hand to the back of his neck and at her touch his face crumbled, tears spilling over his brilliant green eyes. He wrapped his arms around her waist tightly and sobbed into his wife’s belly as she rubbed his back. She sat down next to him on the couch and held his face between her soft hands. _You are so loved. Harry, you're safe. Harry, be strong. Come back,_ her brown eyes willed him.

“We f-found her. 'Mione. She’s alive, Gin. Hermione is alive. Alive. She’s…” Harry's voice broke off into wracking sobs which brought tears stinging at Ginny's eyes as well.

“What do you mean Hermione’s alive? Has there been another sighting?” she asked, forcing calm into her voice.

“No, it wasn't another sighting. I saw her myself. He found her.”

“I don't understand. Who found her? Harry, what’s going on?” Ginny frowned.

Harry looked at his wife, taking comfort in the familiar constellations of her freckles and the fire in her bright brown eyes. He brought her hands to his lips and tried to get a hold of himself. He had struggled to keep his emotions in check at dinner earlier, aware that Malfoy probably noticed how heavily he was having to Occlude his thoughts. Now in Ginny's arms he felt safe enough to fall apart even though he hated it. _Ginny needed him to be strong_ , he thought. _Ron would need him to be strong._

“Earlier this week, Draco Malfoy found Hermione in London. Something happened that night at Hogwarts, Ginny, and I don’t fully understand it yet. But she’s...she doesn’t remember us. It’s like she’s been Obliviated. Gods, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Ginny, please tell me what to do,” Harry pleaded helplessly.

Wiping the tears from her face, Ginny sniffed once and exhaled heavily before speaking again, “Harry, we need to keep this between us right now until we know more. You know Ron. He's...too fragile to hear about this yet. Oh Gods, Hermione! This all must be so terrifying for her. Where is she now?”

“She’s with Malfoy at Spinner’s End. He’s... I don’t know what’s going on between them actually. He's trying to keep her safe.”

“So hell has officially frozen over then,” the redhead said dryly and Harry’s mouth quirked up into a smile.

“I’ll say. You'll never believe it, but he invited me over and made me dinner earlier. Didn't even use magic or house elves. Bloody wild,” he said before he added, “Gin, I was hoping that we could send over some pictures for her. Maybe help her remember?”

Ginny was already on her feet, wand in hand, going throughout the house, photos floating out of frames from the wall and from albums in the sitting room. He smiled at her lovingly, so grateful for her. At the end of the war, she had been his salvation. She wrote him nearly everyday from Hogwarts during her Seventh Year when he was just beginning his Auror training with Ron. He had saved every letter she wrote to him. All these years later, she took his breath away with how inherently good she was for him and everyone around her. Ginny reminded him that there was a future, and that had got him through. Harry had always wished that Ron had found that for himself: a person that made him imagine a future worth having.

* * *

Despite the flirty promises, the stress of the day caught up with Draco and Hermione, and he woke up in the middle of the night stretched out on the couch with her half on top of him. He smiled drowsily before he gathered her up in his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips with boneless arms draped over his shoulders. She barely stirred when he moved them upstairs and tucked them into his bed. Her presence, the feel of her soft skin, the weight of her body, and the scent of her hair made him sigh. Everything about her felt perfect in the bed that he had shared with no other witch until now. _Perfect_ , he thought. “Perfect,” he whispered, his nose buried in her mane of curls.

When he awoke the next morning, he was startled to find her staring at him, her brow furrowed in contemplation. She had her head propped up with one hand and was tracing patterns over his bare chest with her fingertips. He had kicked off his trousers when he had got into bed and now she was running a foot up and down his calf. At some point, she had shed the sweatpants she had been wearing and he could feel the sensation of the satin smoothness of her bare thighs again his. 

"Sleep well, hmm?" he asked, tucking an arm behind his head. She smiled and kissed him in response. 

"I was wondering something," she started hesitantly, "When you said you could see my thoughts, is that something that all magic people do?"

Draco cocked his head to one side and considered her question. Both Bellatrix and Snape had trained him in Occlumency. He had had significantly more practice with defensive mental magic skills than with Legilimency. He had some understanding that both skills could vary in their presentation. A powerful Occlumens could resist not only Legilimency, but could also reduce the effect of spells like the Imperius Curse. The mind-healer that he had spent time with after the war had also helped him harness his Occlumency to process what had happened to him, teaching him to acknowledge his feelings and organize them. He had used it to practice reminding himself that he was safe and that what had happened was over. 

"There are several kinds of spells that deal with thoughts and memories, though I am not sure what has been happening with us exactly," he said at last, "I thought I had accidentally cast a spell that would allowed me to enter your mind. With magic there usually has to be an intention to guide it. And I think I really wanted to see what happened to you in these last twenty-something years which is why I saw random images the way that I did. There is also magic that can be used to protect the mind and keep others out, but I imagine that that is harder when we're, um, you know, in bed." Hermione couldn't help but giggle at the way his ears turned slightly pink. 

"Draco, I was thinking about what I saw the other night in that other version of my dream. If you and Harry are saying that I disappeared in the fire that I maybe have dreamt about, is the boy, the one in all black, is he-" she whispered, bringing her fingertips to his jaw. He nodded, not needing her to finish.

"I will show you eventually if you want. It's just that that memory is really hard for me and maybe we should start with something else first. Something a little less...less."

The sunlight was in her hair as it fell around him in a curtain when she brought her lips to his. He rolled his body over her in a graceful motion and pinned her to the bed with his hips. Her hungry hands roved over his bare chest and the defined muscles of his arms. Locking eyes with her, he dragged himself down the length of her to bring his head to her chest. Her lips parted around the 'o' of a gasp when his mouth descended on one nipple to lave its pebbled hardness. The delicious pressure of his mouth increased in intensity, encouraged by the arching of her back and the tight grip of her fingers in his flaxen hair. He gave her only a moment of respite before refocusing his attention on her other nipple until her hips squirmed against him and her head rolled restlessly from side to side.

He let the rosy peak fall from his lips with a satisfying 'pop'. He shifted farther down, hooking his thumbs into her knickers to drag them over her thighs. She whimpered at his ravenous expression, his hair, white in the early morning sun, falling over his brow as he basked in the sight of her bare sex. Her nether lips were dusky and swollen, parting just slightly to give him the briefest hint of the glistening wetness within. He ran his palms over her thighs until she was bucking her pelvis towards his mouth. 

_**Please. I need you.**_ Her voice was perfectly clear, except that the voice was in his head.

"What did you say?" Draco whispered, his eyes wide. 

"I didn't," she shook her head.

 _ **I heard you. In my head. Fuck, I want to taste you so badly.**_ Her mouth fell open as she stared at him, but she gave him the slightest of nods. _**Yes. You're in me, too.**_

She moaned as he pressed his lips to her inner thigh followed by another kiss just a fraction closer. He could feel the heat coming from her core as he was enveloped by its salty, musky scent. He had a sudden thought and before he could talk himself out of it, he focused on a particular memory, concentrating it, then mentally pushed it towards her.

_Hermione could see herself through his eyes again. She was dancing in a ball gown of periwinkle blue silk swirling around youthful curves. In his memory, everyone else, including her dance partner, is a blur of lights and shadows, but she is perfectly in focus with her head thrown back in laughter. She can feel his ache for her and it is so exquisite that she almost wants to reach out for the errant curl at her nape which in his memory he is eyeing with particular interest. She is in his mind, tracking her movements across a dance floor, longing to pull her into a dark corner and to fall to his knees. His hands itch to hike up her skirt and pray to the temple of her thighs._

Hermione gave her head a small clearing shake just in time to feel his lips press hard against the bundled nerves of her clitoris. He pinned her hips down possessively to keep her from bucking, and her noises, a captivating mix of moans, hisses, and whimpers, were steadily increasing in volume. Her body communicated clearly the proximity of her impending release and that spurred him to slip two long fingers into her slick cunt curling them until her breath caught in her throat. _ **Now.**_

_**Yes, Draco.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry friends. I know it's been a really long time since I posted a new chapter on any of my works. I do spend a significant amount of time editing old chapters which means that they often grow quite a bit after they are already on here. Such is life without a beta. 
> 
> I have a lot of ideas about where this story might go and have worked out most of the Hermione death and resurrection mystery, but don't have a clear picture about how many more chapters are needed. I am planning on ending this story before Draco goes to Hogwarts in the fall, but may start a new story at that point.
> 
> If you aren't reading "Duets" (formerly "Green Was the Silence"), I am doing 2-3 chapters each for the following pairings: Draco/Astoria, Ginny/Harry, Neville/Hannah, Dean/ Seamus, and Luna/Millicent. Each of these couples will have some role in "Lion and the Serpent", and so "Duets" serves as backstory, but also stand-alone fluff/angst. 
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think!


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